


Quest for the Sword

by Nagillim



Category: He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, Masters of the Universe (1987), She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018), She-Ra: Princess Of Power (1985)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Castle Grayskull, Eternia, Eternos, Etheria - Freeform, Gen, Reboot, Snake Mountain, Sword of Power, brightmoon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 89,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nagillim/pseuds/Nagillim
Summary: All these reboots and no one has yet made the two halves of the franchise whole. We still have a male cast with token females on one side and a female cast with token males on the other. But why keep the two apart? What if Eternia and Etheria weren't in different dimensions? What if they were on the same planet separated only by oceans?This is my attempt to bring the two halves together..."The land of Eternia has had almost a generation of peace. For the first time in nearly a century,  Eternian children have grown up without war and conflict to blight their lives. But the peace is fragile: Horde invaders from the stars occupy Etheria across the sea westward and turn its children into killers, and to the east the evil of Snake Mountain dominates the dark continent of Infinita.Yet even as the Eternians prosper, the wicked sorceress of Snake Mountain - Evil-Lyn - plots to plunge Eternia into a new war via the fulfilment of a prophecy uttered at the end of the last one: the lord of Snake Mountain will return and the world will bleed anew.Only a new He-Man can save them, but the Sword of Power has not been seen since the last war..."Constructive criticism welcomed.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue: Alignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over two decades have passed since the Horde invasion faltered and Eternia was spared a similar fate to its western neighbour Etheria, which was conquered by the invaders. In that time, Eternia has helped support the Great Rebellion in Etheria with weapons and supplies while thousands have fled to Eternia to escape the Horde boot. But Eternia is not entirely secure: to its east lies the dark continent of Infinita which lies under the dominion of Snake Mountain and its sorceress Evil-Lyn.
> 
> Yet in Snake Mountain, that sorceress prepares to usher in a dark prophecy uttered in the dying days of the old war. For that Great Unrest ended with the banishment of Snake Mountain's true master and now she aims to fulfil the prophecy by heralding his long-awaited return...

Evil-Lyn stood in the observatory in the highest peak of Snake Mountain looking up at the night-time heavens above the Fire Plains of Infinita. The great disk of the gas planet Serenia hung high in the south-eastern sky, its surface a roiling mass of storm bands that chased one another around the planet’s equator and poles, alternating violent tumultuous reds and calmer more placid blues. Further east, low to the horizon, hung Bright Moon – a crescent sliver of sunlit bright white beneath a gibbous twilight purple reflecting the light of Serenia – while high overhead hung Dark Moon, most of its surface eclipsed by Tellus – the moon on which Infinita lay – except for a pale crescent of purple from the light of Serenia. As the witch watched, the fourth of Serenia’s moons – Phantos – emerged from the bright disk of Serenia, little more than a large white star as its orbit took it around the far side of the gas giant and then, moments later, the heavenly body she was waiting for emerged from behind the giant slightly above Phantos: the Fate Star.

Her dark purple lips curled as the faint ruddy glow of the distant star separated itself from Serenia’s disk and began to drift west. When the star reached the highest point in the sky above Snake Mountain the time would finally be upon them and Tellus would bleed anew. Turning to the electronic devices in the observatory chamber she watched the telemetry on the monitors as the outer planets that orbited the blue-orange star Hel-Amun along with Serenia moved into alignment between Tellus and the distant Fate Star. It would not be long now. She had been preparing for this moment for two decades and now finally it was here. Not for the first time in all her years of preparing and waiting, the thought crossed her mind that if she simply allowed the alignment to pass then she could rule Infinita as the Sorceress of Snake Mountain and prophecies be damned, but the one who had uttered this prophecy was a being she dared not defy…

She monitored the instruments of the observatory for several more minutes before turning for the spiral staircase carved into the centre of the floor. With a gesture of her ivory-skinned hand, a staff leapt from the corner of the room and into her grasp. It was taller than she was, with a black metal shaft topped by a moulded bird-like talon in which was cradled a crystal orb, and as she began her descent the orb began to glow a sickly green, illuminating her way into the mountain. As she descended from the high peak, the air grew hotter and more oppressive. Dark passageways branched off the staircase at apparently random intervals, carved out of the rock like the staircase itself, but she ignored them all and continued to descend.

Evil-Lyn was a wickedly beautiful woman, with ivory skin that was smooth and unblemished and amethyst eyes framed by heavy black makeup that streaked down her cheeks beneath arched brows. She wore a sleeveless purple half-skirt gown that trailed behind her under a dark-blue armour breastplate decorated with silver ribbing and extending a high black collar that framed her head. Black weighted leather armour strips hung over her hips, suspended from a belt of silver skulls. Dark-blue boots covered her feet beneath black greaves and skull-shaped kneepads. Ornate dark-blue bracers covered her forearms with black bracelets around her upper arms. A shimmering black cape hung from the silver skulls that sat over her shoulders, and her head was topped by a dark-blue skullcap from which rose a crown of silver spikes hung with a black lace veil above a silver skull at her forehead.

It had been many years since she had travelled this deep into Snake Mountain, but eventually a passageway branched off from the foot of the staircase, smelling of sulphur and hot iron, and she turned down this passage as it continued to descend into the rock. The passageway wound ever downward, from time to time opening out into a chasm, underground river or bubbling lava tube and continuing as a ledge along the wall or stone arch spanning the depths before returning once again into the close confines of the passageway. Ancient archways appeared in the walls from time to time, some blocked off by debris but others leading into even darker recesses of the ancient labyrinth that comprised Snake Mountain’s interior. Many of these tunnels had gone unexplored since the time of the Ancients and the last feet that had walked them had been the scaled ones of the long-extinct Snake-Men who had carved Snake Mountain from the peaks of the sulphurous Black Mountains unknown ages before. Evil-Lyn knew that were she to take a wrong turn she could wander the labyrinthine tunnels of those serpentine builders for centuries and not find her way back to fresh air, but she knew exactly the route to take to her destination as though it were imprinted on her memory: as fresh as the day she had last trod it with her former master and lover, the sorcerer-warlord Keldor.

Finally, after walking for what seemed to be many miles, the passageway opened onto a large, vaulted chamber. Many doorways exited the chamber around its perimeter, some long fallen to rubble, but she was here for what lay at its centre: a deep black well that plunged to unknown depths within Tellus. The Ancients had called this place the Well of Night, and it had been a place of black sacrifice during the dark reign of the Snake-Men over Infinita long ago. The air was cold and damp despite the heat and sulphur of the surrounding passageways, though there was no natural source from which such conditions could arise. To a witch of Evil-Lyn’s power, the air seemed alive with dark spirits and malevolent echoes of horrors long forgotten, all centred on that dark opening at the heart of the chamber. Around the rim of the well rose a low wall, into the upper surface of which were hammered the rusted rings to which sacrifices would once have been chained in offering to the serpent god. Its outer and inner surfaces were carved with graven images and the unspeakable runes of forgotten tongues and glistened with nitre. Nine curved pillars rose around the perimeter of the well. Time had worn away at them and several had cracked and fallen into the well down the ages, but those which were least eroded could still be discerned to have once been carved into the image of rearing cobras, their heads having once supported the vaulted ceiling.

“Fe’reyin!” Evil-Lyn whispered, and several candles affixed to the walls of the chamber burst into light, illuminating her surroundings. In the improved light, the carved serpent coils of the chamber floor and the images of blood sacrifice carved into the walls and vaulted ceiling were revealed. The first time she had seen this chamber, even she had recoiled from the horrors it depicted, but that was long ago, and she had been another person then. Now, though, she had seen far worse herself than the depravities conducted by the Snake-Men in worship of their god. The Great Unrest had shown her the true nature of evil and made her the person she was…

A chronometer bleeped on her belt and she silenced the device with a touch.

It was time.

She crossed to the well without a hint of doubt: doubt would be her enemy in the work ahead and she must be certain and precise in everything she did. Standing before the well she looked down into the inky black depths and raised her staff before her. “Ek zhtA vryEn gHol’shhhhaaarrrrr,” she intoned in a language both guttural and susurrating, “Zh’asssha trA orVra Ku dAlat!” She punctuated her words by striking the butt of her staff on the wall that rimmed the well. The orb flashed red as she did so, and the air in the chamber moved as though disturbed. She felt a power not her own enter the chamber and the runes and images carved on the well began to glow a pale greenish white like corpse light. The glow spread, spiralling out across the floor along the carved serpents spiralling there and climbing up the ophidian pillars. The eyes of the intact serpents began to glow a menacing red as the light reached them.

Evil-Lyn continued her incantation. “Schharr toR eK zhtAg’egH hrrrAn fVaorL’ich, kKrazjh Zh’ouaszzTa vEhg ihKt Zhurrr, uK kUl!” She struck the wall again with her staff and the corpse-lights grew brighter. A greenish mist rose from the stone floor and swirled around the room in currents and eddies that resembled nothing less than the dancing of unseen figures through its miasma. “Ek zhtA vryEn!” Evil-Lyn called out forcefully, her staff swirling with purple and red light that danced around the walls of the chamber and made the images carved there jump and dance in its shifting lights. “Ek zhtA vryEn!” she called out again, louder this time. “Ek zhtA vryEn!” The eyes of the serpent pillars glowed blood-red and a thick black liquid oozed from them and dripped into the well. Where the liquid reached the top of the wall, ripples of corpse-light spread out from them as though they dripped into a hidden pool.

“Ek zhtA vryEn!” she cried out again, her hand leaving her staff, which remained hovering before her above the wall. She raised her arms out to her sides, her hands curled into upturned talons as she worked the powers the incantation had invoked. “Ek zhtA vryEn!” This last call she practically shrieked, feeling the power penetrate her body as she did so and take form through her words, transforming her voice into an inhuman howl of rage and passion and hunger. It was almost too much for her and she felt herself drifting in and out of consciousness as the power used her as its conduit in the chamber. Her own cries were lost in the howling of a spectral wind that swirled through the chamber and whipped at her body, billowing the half-skirt and cape she wore around her. She staggered to her knees under the onslaught, feeling as if every ounce of her being was being drained to feed the magic she had invoked…

And then the chamber was overcome by an eerie silence. The wind stopped as suddenly as it had started and there was a sudden sense of peace, like the calm before the storm. Only the corpse-lights and the glow of Evil-Lyn’s staff remained and, when she had recovered enough to raise her head and open her eyes, she saw that the well itself roiled with an inky black miasma that seemed part smoke and part liquid and licked around the rim of the wall itself, its vapours drifting over and down to the chamber floor. She staggered back to her feet, using her magic to fortify herself and complete the spell.

Taking hold of her staff in both hands she held it up before her, high over her head. “ZhajKa’vEt dUrn Ghol’garzhhh tA’vuull!” she called out before plunging the orb of her staff into the miasma. Flashes of red, purple and white light flashed in the inky black substance filling the well and when Evil-Lyn pulled her staff back up out of the stuff it clung around the orb like a gaseous tar before slowly dissipating into nothingness. The flashes of light continued deep in the well and she felt a deep rumbling within the mountain that grew in intensity as the seconds passed. Then the miasma rose from the well, swirling up towards the vaulted ceiling into an inky black mass with flickering lights impossibly and unfathomably deep within.

Again, Evil-Lyn dropped to her knees and bowed her head, though this time it was not from exhaustion. The spell was complete, and the swirling mass of dense miasma began to coalesce around itself, gradually taking on the shape of a tall, hooded figure. As the last of the miasma dissipated around the figure, Evil-Lyn spoke. “Welcome back, my lord.”

The figure chuckled darkly and stepped forward to the rim of the well, standing atop the wall swathed in a black hood and cloak, looking down at the witch. “How long has it been, Evil-Lyn?” asked its inhuman voice, like the croaking wheeze of a reanimated corpse. She looked up, trying to search the shadows of the hood for some trace of a face. “Is that you, Keldor?” she asked.

The figure shrugged its hooded head. “In a manner of speaking,” it said. “Now answer my question!”

“Twenty-one years, my lord.”

The figure chuckled darkly. “So little time? It seemed like an eternity in the Beyond…” The figure stepped down from the wall, the links of hidden armour clinking under the billowing cloak. A pale-blue hand emerged from the folds, the forearm it was connected to enclosed in a black metal bracer inlaid with dark-purple enamel and serrated along the back. Its bony fingers ended in black claws. It caressed Evil-Lyn’s cheek as the figure spoke, its tone mocking. “Have you missed your prince, my dear?”

“I missed your power,” she replied.

The figure chuckled again. “Get up,” it commanded. “I have a planet to conquer!”

Evil-Lyn rose to her feet and fell in at the figure’s side as it headed unerringly for the exit through which she had entered. As they walked, she saw its bony, blue-skinned feet protrude from within the enswathing cloak with each stride, its bare toes tipped by the same black talons as its fingers. If this was her former master, Keldor, as the prophecy had said, he was clearly no longer the man who had been banished into the Beyond by the Sorceress of Grayskull. But would anyone return from the void between all things unchanged by the experience?

“You have a question, Evil-Lyn?” the figure asked as though sensing her unspoken thoughts.

“I see that you return to us changed, Keldor.”

“Indeed. As Hordak said it would be… and more than you can begin to guess, my dear. Keldor was banished a mortal man and returns something far more.”

“What?” she asked intrigued.

“All will be revealed in due course, my dear,” he chuckled darkly. “I trust you have my forces assembled…?”

“Your forces and more, my lord,” she replied. “I took the liberty of expanding your dominions in your absence. Infinita bows to our will.”

The figure stopped walking. “Our will, Evil-Lyn?” he asked menacingly, and she felt a tightness constrict her throat.

“Forgive me, master,” she croaked. “A simple slip of the tongue. I meant to say your will.”

“Be sure there are no more ‘slips of the tongue’, my dear,” he told her, and she felt the tightness recede. “You have always been my most valuable servant. It would be an inconvenience to have to replace someone of your many indispensable skills…”

“Yes, my lord,” she replied, rubbing her throat. “That will not be necessary.”

“I hope so for your sake,” he replied in an amused tone, resuming his stride down the passageway. She watched his back for several moments, her eyes narrowed with hatred. It had been many years since there had been love between Keldor and herself, and much had happened to them both since the naivety of their youth, but he had never been casually violent with her. His time in the Beyond had indeed changed him more than she could have begun to guess. Perhaps, after all, it would have been for the best if she had not fulfilled Hordak’s prophecy and released him.

Then she thought of the second part of Hordak’s prophecy and a smile curled her lips. Keldor had not heard that part as he had already been banished into the Beyond; only Evil-Lyn knew that Keldor’s return was part of a much bigger picture that even her former lover did not see. If he proved to no longer value her presence, then perhaps a greater power would. Yes, why settle for standing at the side of power when, if she rolled her dice well, she would be the power that others stood at the side of…?

“Are you coming, Evil-Lyn?” He called impatiently from ahead.

“Yes, my lord,” she replied, hurrying to catch him up. For his part he did not slow at all to wait for her and it took her several turns of the passageway to reach him. When she reached his side, he barely glanced her way. “Do try to keep up,” he told her with a cruel laugh. “I cannot conquer Eternia if my servants are forever struggling to keep pace with me.”

“Do not worry about me,” she replied, fighting to keep the anger from her voice. “I am more than capable of keeping up.”

He turned to her and all she could see were the shadows within his hood. A hand rose from within his cloak and a black talon pricked under her chin, forcing her to look up directly into the hood. Within, two pinpricks of red light began to glow where eyes should have been, illuminating the sockets of what appeared to be a bone mask. “I can sense your rage, my dear,” he told her. “I approve. Use it. Make it your fuel through what is ahead… My conquest of Eternia is only the beginning, Evil-Lyn. When the Eternians have learned their place in the dirt at my feet the rest of this planet will follow. Even the Horde will bow to me as their new master. The apprentice shall take his rightful place as the true Master of the Universe…”

“What of Hordak?”

“He is nothing but a powerless wraith trapped in a dimension of darkness and emptiness. He can stay as he is. He has no real power here, as his minions will soon learn. I will claim the Power of Eternia that he craves so much, Evil-Lyn, and then Tellus will become the throne-world of my new empire: an empire the likes of which has not been seen since the days of the Ancients…”

Evil-Lyn smiled appreciatively at the grandeur of his vision despite herself. Perhaps, she mused, he might just do it. She could have an entire galaxy of her own to rule over within his empire should he succeed… and if he failed then there was still Hordak’s prophecy to nudge into effect and who knew how appreciative a being as mighty as Hordak could be to those who served his ends? Her smile broadened at the thought. “My, my,” she chuckled, reaching a hand to try to cup the face hidden within the hood, only for him to take her wrist and prevent her touching him. Hiding her surprise at the unexpected move, she kept the smile on her lips. “How far you’ve come on your journey, my former love,” she purred. “When first we met you dreamt only of a kingdom that was rightfully yours. Before your banishment that dream had grown to conquering and ruling a world, and now you dream of an entire universe at your feet…”

“You cannot begin to comprehend the scope of what I have dreamt all these years of banishment, Evil-Lyn,” he replied darkly. The twin red glows within his hood flared momentarily before the shadows claimed everything again. Without another word he released her wrist and turned away to resume his walk to the surface and she fell wordlessly in at his side, keeping her thoughts to herself.

They soon reached the staircase that climbed to the peak of Snake Mountain and began to ascend, stopping short of the summit as her master turned off down a passageway that looked more recently occupied than those deeper in the mountain. Hideous gargoyles and other carvings lined the walls. At intervals along its length, archways and wooden doors led into other passageways and rooms but they passed them all until they reached a larger archway at the end of the tunnel, barred by a black iron portcullis. With the flick of a hand from within his cloak, the portcullis rose into the carved stone archway and they stepped out onto a ledge edged with a railing of the same metal as the portcullis. Below the ledge ran a river of lava from the great volcanic caldera that Snake Mountain’s twin peaks rose above, and to the left a stone bridge spanned across the lava to a ledge on the far side and another portcullis.

They crossed the bridge and passed through the second portcullis into a curving passageway that climbed steadily upwards to a large archway flanked by great stone griffons and carved with wyverns. Beyond the arch lay a cavernous chamber with several similar entrances around the perimeter, the corners of which were cloaked in darkness. Stone pillars ringed the chamber carved with grotesques and jutting spikes. Chains festooned the high ceiling with iron lantern cages hanging from them that cast insufficient illumination. At the centre of the room stood a table made of carved stone and animal bones atop of which sat a large crystal globe ringed by instrument panels, while at the far end rose a stepped dais of carved stone atop which sat a throne made of disjointed and mismatched bones and skulls, both animal and human, with the ancient skull of a great horned dragon atop its backrest.

A great purple-furred dylinx lay at the foot of the dais and at their entrance it opened faintly luminescent yellow-green eyes and raised its huge head, its ears pricked forward. Evil-Lyn and her master walked into the chamber and, as Evil-Lyn stopped beside the central table, the hooded and cloaked figure continued towards the dais and the waiting dylinx. As he reached the giant feline, a blue hand appeared out from the cloak and stroked the cat’s head, eliciting a deep rumbling purr from the animal, which climbed to its feet and moved aside to allow him to climb up to the throne. As he reached it, his hand reached out to a black metal staff topped with a polished ram skull, its great curled horns gilded and red jewels embedded in its eye sockets, and it leapt into his grasp, its jewel eyes glowing like embers. He turned back to face the room, sweeping his cloak back from around him as he sank into the seat of the throne.

His skin-tone was the same pale blue as his hands and feet: an unmistakable sign of Gar heritage. His body was tall and powerful, and yet, despite the sinewy musculature, the underlying bones of his ribcage and pelvis jutted unpleasantly, as though he were simultaneously emaciated. A black skirt of weighted leather straps hung from a dark-purple metal belt around his waist. Dark-purple greaves with black serrations along the outer edge were fastened around his legs below silver skull-shaped knee guards. A studded black leather harness crossed his chest, to which was attached a dark-purple half breastplate above his solar plexus. Silver bones ran around the edge of this breastplate from the large silver crossbones over the centre of his chest, in the heart of which sat a great dark ruby. Above the crossbones the faded detail of red bat wings covered the breastplate, though most of it was scraped away to reveal the dulled metal beneath the enamelled surface. Atop each shoulder sat a silver shoulder pad shaped like a skull, from which hung weighted black leather straps to his elbows. His face, however, was still hidden in the concealing shadows of his black hood.

Evil-Lyn stood by the table, taking in the changes to her former lover. No one had known the hard lines and soft curves of his body better than she and, though she still saw many of those same recognisable lines and curves in the man now sitting on Keldor’s throne, the protruding bones and sunken emaciated belly were clearly unrecognisable. What had he endured in his years in the Beyond for him to return as this living corpse?

“Is that you, Lord Keldor?” asked a deep guttural voice from the shadows of the room. Evil-Lyn glanced across to see a hulking, vaguely human shape move out from the darkness into the dim light of the throne room. Even slouched on its thick hairy limbs as it was, its knuckles trailing the floor, the creature towered head and shoulder above anyone else in the room. It was covered in thick orange-brown fur with a tattered brown hide loincloth hanging at its waist from a studded leather belt. Metal manacles circled its wrists and ankles with the broken remnants of chains hanging from them. Its hands and feet ended in sharp dirty claws. Boiled hide armour still covered in thick red fur hung over its upper torso and encircled its broad shoulders and thick neck, with an ornate jewelled amulet over its chest and curving black metal spikes embedded around the collar. Similar spikes adorned the black armour on its upper arms and knees. Its face was pale, gaunt and hairless, with tusks curving up out of its lower jaw and blue war paint streaking its cheeks.

The figure on the throne looked its way. “Ah, Beast-Man, I knew that you of all my servants would not desert me… more’s the pity.” He laughed cruelly.

“So, it is you then?” asked another growling voice from the shadows, and a figure almost as big as Beast-Man stepped into the light. His blue skin marked him out as a Gar, though it was of a darker tone than the figure on the throne. Otherwise, he was a walking abomination. His right arm had been replaced by a black, vaguely insect-like metal armature that whirred and clicked as it moved and ended in a huge vicious metal hook. Similar black metal encased the right shoulder and chest, hooks and pipes and tubes fusing it into the tortured flesh around it. Both legs were replaced by digitigrade prosthetics of similar black metal from the mid-thigh down, with four sharp metal talons for feet. A thick green armour belt around his waist held a black leather loincloth and a black sheath in which hung a curved sword. A black cybernetic gauntlet covered his left hand up to the elbow and black cybernetics extended up his spine. On his head he was wearing a dark-red half-helm and his lower face had been replaced by a black cybernetic metal mantrap.

“In a way, Trap-Jaw,” the figure responded. “I was Keldor once. It feels like an eternity ago now. Banishment to the Beyond has left me irrevocably changed. I have learned secrets forgotten since the time of the Ancients and gained more power than Keldor could have ever dreamt possible…”

“He still rambles like Keldor,” Beast-Man grunted under his breath.

Moments later the great hulking beast was surrounded in a sphere of black miasma and lifted from his feet. Bolts of red lightning crackled within the cloud, striking Beast-Man repeatedly and causing him to howl with agony.

“And you still speak out of turn, Beast-man!” the figure said coldly. Evil-Lyn and Trap-Jaw looked to the throne to find him on his feet, the ram-headed staff raised and its eyes blazing with red light. The eyes hidden within the hood also blazed red, illuminating what lay within the shadows. Earlier, Evil-Lyn had thought the glow had illuminated a bone mask, but now she could see the truth.

There was no face within the mask.

Just a fleshless bone-white skull that cackled with maniacal glee as Beast-Man writhed and howled helplessly.

“Keldor,” Trap-Jaw asked, “what happened to you?”

The hooded figure turned to Trap-Jaw, the empty sockets of his skull-face still blazing with red energy. “Keldor is dead. He died twenty-one years ago. I am what the Beyond made of his remains.”

Beast-Man was hurled across the chamber to land in a heap on the floor, his fur singed black and smouldering.

“I am Skeletor!” the figure told those assembled in his throne room. “I am the Lord of Destruction!”

Evil-Lyn and Trap-Jaw dropped to their knees; heads bowed.

“Now assemble my armies!” commanded Skeletor. “We have a universe to conquer, beginning with Eternia!”


	2. Eternia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skeletor has returned from banishment and his forces prepare for war.
> 
> While to the west, the people of Eternia live their lives oblivious to the evil that is soon to descend upon them...

Far to the west of Snake Mountain, the dark plains of Infinita’s interior gave way to volcanic coastal mountains and thick jungles. Here, uncounted thousands of years earlier, the dark continent had crashed up against its neighbour, Eternia, in tectonic upheavals that had left them permanently connected by a land bridge on either side of which were volcanic mountains, vast desert wastelands and steaming jungles. To the north, Eternia was almost cut in two by the Sea of Rakash in the west and the Sea of Smoke to the east and above this lay the fertile northern plains, forests and mountains of Eternia’s heartlands that stretched poleward to the Ice Mountains and the Crystal Sea.

The Kingdom of Eternos occupied most of the northern plains from the coasts of the Sea of Harmony in the west to the Mystic Mountains and the Fields of Evermore in the east. Its southern borders lay on the edge of the Eternian Highlands and the Western Hills north of the Sea of Rakash, while the dense Evergreen Forest formed its northernmost limits. The great River Eternos snaked through the kingdom from the Evergreen Forest to the sea. Where it passed through the heart of the kingdom arose a lake of azure blue waters into which the river emptied to the north over crystal clear falls. On the western banks of the lake, straddling the river as it left the lake, stood the picturesque walled city of Eternos – the royal seat of Randor, High King of Eternia – with its winding cobblestone streets, colourful half-timbered houses and bright fluttering flags.

On a promontory to the south overlooking the city and the lake stood the royal palace. Its ancient walls were carved red stone, rising in concentric terraces of gatehouses, courtyards, workshops, halls and gardens to the great domed keep at its centre. Its towers were made of polished white marble while its gilded rooftops shone in the sunlight. Guards clad in green and orange techno-armour patrolled the battlements on the walls, armed with force-pikes and blaster-bows, though their presence was largely ceremonial as the palace had not been besieged for over two decades. The palace had been the seat of the Kings of Eternos since the time of the Ancients and, though many of its structures had been rebuilt down the millennia, its walls and basic structures would have still been recognisable to some of its earliest monarchs. Now it served a dual purpose as the throne of Eternia, much of which had been united under High King Randor since the Great Unrest and the banishment of Keldor, and Randor had maintained the peace and prosperity of Eternia all those years with both his strength and his great wisdom.

The council chamber of the Royal Palace of Eternos was a large spacious room at the apex of the palace’s central keep. The vaulted ceiling held up the dome of the palace roof with marble pillars around the perimeter and stained-glass windows in the walls. Large doors opened to the east and west onto an encircling rampart where councillors could retire to gather their thoughts during long or particularly heated sessions and watchmen could stand guard without overhearing the deliberations within, and staircases descended at the north and south to the rest of the keep. A large elliptical table sat in the centre of the room, its surface enamelled with a map of Tellus with Eternia at the centre, Infinita to the east, Etheria to the west, and the planet’s three minor southern continents – Phantasia, Oblivia and Inertia – below Etheria and Infinita.

A magnified hologram of the southern fork of the Mystic Mountains to the east of Eternos hovered above the table with the twin mountain kingdoms of Andreenos and Avion marked on them. Other symbols indicating the armies and fortifications of the two kingdoms through the mountains were also indicated. Randor, High King of Eternia, looked at the holographic map and stroked his beard thoughtfully. The king was a tall and powerful looking man with olive skin and dark serious eyes, his shoulder-length brown hair and full beard peppered with grey. He was dressed in a blue-grey techno-armour base-layer under a red tunic trimmed with gold embroidery. On his feet he wore royal-blue leather boots trimmed with white fur. Gold bracers encircled his wrists, and a royal-blue and gold belt circled his waist. Over this he wore an open blue robe trimmed with white fur that hung to his knees. A simple unadorned golden crown sat atop his head. “Have we received any word from out peace envoys, Duncan?” he asked the other man standing across the table.

Duncan was the Man-at-Arms of Eternos and one of the king’s closest friends and advisors. He was of an age with the king, though paler in complexion and with clear blue eyes. His brown hair was cropped short on the back and sides, with more greying at the temples than the king, and fastened into a topknot at his crown in an old martial style that matched his thick bushy moustache. He was shorter than the king but no less powerfully built and wore the green techno-armour base-layer of the Royal Guard, over which he wore a variation of their burnt-orange techno-plate armour over his arms and upper torso. Around his waist, a brown leather and fur loincloth hung from a blue-grey techno-armour belt from which hung various tool pouches. Matching brown boots covered his feet beneath burnt orange grieves that extended up over his knees. His breastplate was trimmed in brown fur around his shoulders. “It’s not all unwelcome news, your majesty,” he replied. “Our ambassador in Avion reports that Lord Stratos is reluctant to start a war with the Andreenids but there are those on the Avion council who are pushing for a conflict. Both Avion and Andreenos have been seriously impacted by poor harvests over the past few years. The subjects of both kingdoms have been forced further afield in search of forage and both accuse the other of raiding their border territories.”

“And what of the political situation in Andreenos?” the king asked.

“Their queen has been open to our intervening diplomatically to keep the peace and preserve her hive, but some of her lords aren’t so easily dissuaded from conflict. You know as well as I do that the Lords of Andreenos can be single-minded in their pursuit of status and glory.”

“Are any of the lords open to peace?” asked the king.

“Some, your majesty,” Duncan replied. “Our ambassador is trying to help unite them into a coalition that can back the queen’s push for peace, but it remains to be seen if enough of them can be convinced against a conflict.”

“For the sake of the Avionians and Andreenids I pray the Goddess grants them wisdom in this,” said the king. “Eternos has sufficient grain stores to help alleviate their poor harvests, but if enough of their leaders truly prefer conflict to peace then all the grain in Tellus won’t dissuade them from it…”

“Perhaps if Lord Stratos and Queen Andreeno could be convinced to meet in person on neutral territory they could come to a peaceful resolution,” Duncan offered. “We could invite them both to Eternos for talks.”

The king stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I’m sure Stratos can be convinced, but the queen hasn’t left the safety of Andreenos since before the Horde invasion. Andreenid queens and their hives are rarely separated…”

“Perhaps she could send one of her lords to negotiate on her behalf,” Duncan suggested.

“But would the other lords accept the negotiations of a possible rival?” the king replied. He shook his head. “I think it would have to be the queen herself. None of the lords carry the weight of her authority, and their devotion to her means they will all follow her lead.”

“Should we notify the ambassadors?” Duncan asked.

“We should contact the ambassador to Andreenos first. Before we make an official request to Avion we need to be sure Queen Andreeno would be willing to attend talks here. It might be taken as a slight to have Stratos agree but have the queen refuse, and that would only inflame the situation.”

Duncan nodded. “A wise decision.”

The king pressed a button on the table and a few moments later a page appeared at the north stair in the orange and blue livery of the royal house. “Yes, my lords?” the young girl asked.

The king spoke. “Take a message to the communications tower. Have the chief of the watch contact our embassy in Andreenos. I would like a private secure channel to our ambassador there before the day is out.”

“Yes, your majesty,” the girl replied, disappearing back down the stairs.

As she went, she crossed a young man who was climbing the stairs to the council chamber. He was tall, dark-skinned and athletic, with short auburn hair held out of his dark eyes by a gold headband, and an auburn goatee. He was wearing dark-blue techno-armour leggings beneath a red-trimmed blue loincloth held up by a black leather pouch belt, from which hung a brace of daggers. He wore gold greaves over his feet to his knees and blue leather bracers around his forearms backed with gold armour. A gold and white breastplate covered his upper torso with a heart-shaped gem at the centre of the chest. A red poncho cape hung around his shoulders to the back of his hips, embroidered with gold trim. He stepped aside to allow her to pass before continuing the climb. As he emerged from the stairwell into the room the king caught his eye, and a smile lit the monarch’s face. “Ah, Bow,” Randor said cheerfully. “How goes it, lad?”

Bow bowed his head to the monarch. “Good, your majesty. I have an urgent message for Man-at-Arms, if you please, sire?”

“Oh?” Duncan asked, turning with a curious and faintly apprehensive expression. “Don’t tell me one of the apprentices set the workshop afire again…”

“No, sir,” Bow replied with a smirk. “Nor has Orko been practising his conjuring near your equipment.”

“Thank the Ancients for small mercies,” Duncan said with a chuckle. “Then, please, speak.”

“The Ambassador for Rondale has requested you contact her at your earliest convenience,” Bow told him. “She was most insistent you receive the message promptly but at pains to say that it was nothing of grave concern.”

“Rondale you say?” Duncan replied, and he looked as uncomfortable as Bow had ever seen him. “Then I, erm, should get along I suppose.” He turned to the king and bowed his head. “If you please, your majesty?”

The king could barely suppress a smirk as he nodded. “Of course, Duncan. And pass on my regards to Lady Miranda when you speak.”

“Aye, sire,” Duncan replied, his face reddening further as he picked up his blue-grey techno-armour helmet from the table. “If you would both excuse me.” Without another word he turned and left the room by the south stair.

Bow watched him go with bemusement as he approached the king at the table. “What was that all about, your majesty?” he asked, turning his attention to Randor.  
“Bow, my boy,” the king replied with a chuckle, still watching the stairs where his Man-at-Arms had just left the room, “it would be remiss of me to speak of my old friend’s personal life with my squire. Suffice to say that I believe romance may be in the air…”

“Master Duncan and Lady Miranda?”

“With a little patience and luck,” the king mused. “It’s been far too long since Duncan entertained a lady friend.” The king turned to his squire, setting aside thoughts of his friend’s love life. “So, my boy, how go your studies?”

“Good, your majesty,” Bow replied. “I believe I may have something of interest to show you later that I’ve been working on with the help of the Nerlins in Man-at-Arms’ workshop.”

“Duncan tells me your skills as a techsmith are developing at a swift pace. It will serve you well when you return to Queen Angella’s court with the princess.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

The king rounded the table and rested a fatherly hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I’ve also been impressed with your dedication to your martial training. I’m told you’re the equal of any young warrior in Eternos and that your skill with a bow is unmatched by any in the kingdom.”

“I do my best, sire.”

The king smiled warmly. “It does not go unnoticed. Neither by me nor by the court. I almost wish you could stay in Eternia, but Etheria is going to need your skills far more than we do some day…”

“Sire, I’d gladly stay if things were different and my home was free,” Bow replied graciously. “And, who knows, one day it will be and perhaps I’ll return.”

“Perhaps,” the king replied, smiling wanly. “But you’re a handsome young man and I’ve no doubt back in Etheria you’ll turn the head of some young maiden who shall bear you many healthy children.” The king’s smile broadened. “I’m led to believe you’ve turned several heads already in my own court…”

“Sire, I’d never-”

The king laughed heartily. “Don’t worry, my boy, I know you wouldn’t. But if you did, I would fear the queen more were I you. You’re young and young men have their desires, but there are boundaries that a gentleman must respect, and from what my dear wife tells me your respect for those boundaries is impeccable.” He patted Bow on the shoulder again. “But enough of this. Walk with me a while. We can discuss loftier things.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Bow replied, glad for talk of his romantic life to be set aside.

“Have you heard of the situation in the Mystic Mountains, Bow?” the king asked as the two of them headed for the north stair.

Bow nodded. “Yes, sire.”

“And what are your thoughts on the matter?” the king asked as they left the room. “It’s always useful to get a fresh opinion on matters.”

“It seems to me that both the Avionians and the Andreenids share any blame between them,” Bow replied. “Both sides have been taking food from the other that they weren’t entitled to, so threatening war over the other doing it seems frankly petty.”

“Indeed,” said the king with a nod. “And yet we must see things from their perspective also. Their people are going hungry. Neither Lord Stratos nor Queen Andreeno can truly blame their subjects for resorting to crimes of desperation, and yet they cannot simply sit by as they incur further losses to their food reserves.”

“Surely the best thing for them to do would have been to ask for help, though, rather than end up in this situation.”

“The Lords of Andreenos can be a stubborn lot,” the king replied. “Asking outsiders for help goes against their very nature. And the Avionians are similarly proud… And in any case, they aren’t the only people suffering failed harvests. We’ve had long hard winters and dry summers for a few years now. If things do not improve this season, I fear even Eternos may need to ration supplies come winter. Particularly once we’ve helped our neighbours in the Mystic Mountains to avert this conflict.”

“In Etheria, before the Horde came, it’s said that the farmlands of Plumeria provided more than enough bounty for the entire continent,” Bow said. “Their monarch kept the land green and plentiful all year round.”

“Would that I had that power,” Randor sighed. “But magic was my brother’s gift and his story ended when you were just a boy.”

“Surely Eternia has other magicians that might be able to help with the harvest…”

“I’m afraid many of our greatest magic users were lost in the Great Unrest,” the king sighed. “And of those who remain I can think of none with both the power and the inclination to help us in this situation.”

“If not magic then what about technology? Could a technological method of increasing the harvest be found?”

“I have had the kingdom’s greatest minds working on just that,” Randor admitted. “But as of yet no major breakthroughs…” The king frowned, troubled, before forcing a smile. “But let’s not catastrophize. If we can avert war diplomatically then next season the harvests may be sufficient to remove the spectre of hunger. And if not, I can appeal to the Emperor of Simbar in the south to send what his people can spare of their harvests. We aren’t out of hope just yet.”

“If anyone can manage it, sire, it will be you,” Bow reassured him. It troubled him to see the king so full of doubts. Since Bow had come to Eternos as a boy – an orphan from Horde-occupied Etheria – he had grown to see the king as almost a father figure. As a boy he had served as Randor’s cup bearer and page, and then as he grew older the king had honoured him by making him his squire. He owed much to the man, least of all the training that might one day enable him to contribute to the liberation of his home and people. Randor had taught him what it meant to be a man by example: wise, just, strong and intelligent. Randor had been a great warrior in his youth, and a great general after that, and he was a wise and noble king to the people of his kingdom, whether native or foreign-born: many Etherians had fled the Horde to Eternia during and after the Great Unrest, and under Randor’s law as High King of Eternia they had been welcomed and found the safety and liberty denied them by the Horde.

The king gave him a broad smile and clapped him on the back. “Your faith in my abilities may be a little overzealous… but I thank you for it.”

“Not at all,” Bow replied. “Eternia named you high king because you proved yourself deserving of it.”

“In war, perhaps,” Randor replied humbly. “But winning a war is easy compared to winning and keeping a peace…”

*****

Queen Marlena of Eternos had never imagined that her life would one day see her as the wife of a reigning monarch, much less the reigning monarch of a world that was not her own. She had found herself on Tellus quite unexpectedly, the sole survivor of a freak accident she still had not fully unravelled the causes of. But it was on Tellus that her spaceship – the Rainbow Explorer – had crashed more than two decades earlier and she had found herself in the middle of a war – what the Eternians called the Great Unrest – and soon after a pilot and technician in the Eternian Air Guard under the command of her young soon-to-be-husband King Randor of Eternos, who proved to be one of the bravest and kindest men she had ever known. Randor had been a mighty warrior with a heart filled with tragedies, and as an alien from another world Marlena had become the one person that the great king and general could bare his soul to and share all his fears and doubts. And she had grown to love him enough to stay with her alien king, becoming his queen, advisor and the mother to his children.

Marlena was a handsome woman now in her early fifties, with alabaster skin and bright blue eyes. Her hair was auburn with only the faintest trace of greying, and she wore it up, fastened into her ornate golden crown. Though as a young woman on the distant world of Earth her friends had often joked that she was happier in overalls or a flight suit than a cocktail dress, on Tellus she had grown into her womanhood and set aside the idea that to be taken seriously as a pilot, engineer and astronaut she needed to downplay her femininity, for Tellus had a history of powerful women. As queen she dressed the part, wearing beautiful gowns that would not have looked out of place at a renaissance fair back home. As she strolled through the terraced gardens of the palace with her ladies in waiting, enjoying a brief respite from her royal obligations to the kingdom, she was dressed in a flowing emerald-green gown trimmed in gold, with a long red and gold sash belt around her waist and long flowing split-sleeves. Around her wrists she wore ornate golden bracers inlaid with rubies and emeralds and on her feet a pair of soft grey leather and fur boots.

She loved the gardens of the palace – which overlooked Lake Eternos on terraced slopes between the outer and inner walls – and had spent a large part of her free time over the previous twenty years transforming them into one of the most famed botanic gardens on Tellus, to which botanists and scholars came from far and wide to marvel at the beauty on show in their diversity. They had become her respite from her duties as queen, which often saw her acting in Randor’s stead to administer the day-to-day governance of the kingdom while her husband was engaged in the greater business of governing all Eternia, or in coordinating the relief efforts that supplied the Great Rebellion in Etheria across the Sea of Harmony. Marlena wished the Etherians success in their struggle, for though the Eternians had won their own freedom from the invading Horde over two decades ago, their sister continent of Etheria in the west still laboured under occupation by the alien armies that had descended on Tellus seeking conquest.

Bidding her ladies to wait behind, Marlena crossed to the walled rim of the terrace and sat down on the low wall. Before her lay the glistening blue waters of the lake and the falls of the River Eternos, and beyond them the green fields and farmlands of Eternos spread out before her. Though not a native of this alien land, she had grown to love it as her own and wished nothing but peace and prosperity for it. And God willing – or Goddess willing as the Eternians might say – it might have just that for many years to come…

On the terrace below where Marlena sat, she could see a young woman exercising on a wide lawn of lush grass. The young woman wore a sleeveless white tunic under a gold and white half-breastplate and a skirt of gold armour feathers. Soft brown leather and fur boots covered her feet to her knees and white enamelled bracers covered her forearms, with gold bracelets around her upper arms. Her hair was auburn with golden sun-kissed highlights, fastened into a ponytail at her crown, and a golden Eternian battle-tiara sat on her forehead, extending guards over her ears and cheeks. She trained with a long wooden staff, and her movements back and forth across the grass as the staff spun and swiped the area around her were rhythmic and purposeful, like a battle-dance.

The younger woman caught sight of the queen and stopped momentarily, waving to her. Marlena returned the wave, calling down to her. “Good morning, Teela. Your technique is improving by leaps and bounds lately. I’m sure at this rate the king will be appointing you a captain of the Royal Guard.”

Teela blushed and bowed her head. “Thank you, your majesty.”

Marlena chuckled gently. “You are too modest, young lady,” she told her. “You have become one of the finest fighters I have ever seen.”

“Thank you,” Teela answered again, this time lifting her chin proudly. “It’s my honour to serve the House of Eternos.”

“And it is our honour to have your service, Teela,” the queen replied. “Have you happened upon my son at all this morning?”

“Adam?” Teela asked, her expression darkening a little. “No, your majesty. I’m sure he’s around somewhere. Asleep in a stable, no doubt.”

Marlena smiled, amused. “You’re too hard on him,” she called down, her tone gentle. “He is his father’s son, and those are big shoes for any young man to fill. I know one day he’ll be more than ready to fill them, but until then he deserves some opportunities to be a young man with freedom and not always a young prince with obligations.”

Teela frowned. “If you say so, but perhaps if he seemed to have an interest in those obligations others would be more forgiving of his indiscipline…”

Marlena raised a hand to stop her saying more. “I know the two of you don’t always see eye to eye, Teela, but I also know how much you love each other. You’re like the sister Adam was denied. Don’t destroy that relationship with recrimination and hostility. He’s a good man, and one day he’ll prove himself to be a good king.”

“I’m sorry, your majesty,” Teela replied, looking down sheepishly. “I spoke out of turn.”

“You could never speak out of turn to me, Teela,” the queen reassured her. “I value your forthrightness greatly and always have. Since you were no higher than my knee you could always be relied upon to tell the truth no matter how difficult that truth might be to say or to hear. It’s not an ability you should ever be ashamed of, nor should you ever seek to do otherwise. The hardest things to say are often the most important to be said…”

“I’m not sure that everyone would agree with you,” Teela replied, still sheepish.

The queen chuckled. “Some people don’t like hearing certain truths. That doesn’t mean we should refrain from speaking them. Quite the contrary: the most important truths to speak are the ones that others find most offensive. The king values my counsel precisely because he knows I won’t spare his feelings in giving it.”

“But you and the king never disagree, your majesty.”

Marlena laughed aloud. “Teela, my dear, my darling husband and I disagree quite regularly. We simply do so discretely. While it’s always important to tell unpleasant truths, it’s important not to cause public embarrassment. It wouldn’t do for me to disagree with the High King of Eternia in front of his subjects. Discretion is often as important as truth.”

*****

Man-at-Arms came out of one of the private communications rooms at Eternos palace with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. His conversations with Lady Miranda always cheered him, and her news that she would be returning to Eternos in a few weeks to brief the king in person on her efforts to resolve the long-running dispute between Rondale and its neighbour Califia over rights to the Merken Isles had cheered him no end. He and Miranda had known one another for many years and, while their respective duties to the Eternian throne forced them apart often, he could not deny his feelings for her. She was, after all, one of the few people in his life who could not only keep up with his thought processes but make the connections that he himself might have overlooked. It would be good to spend some time with her and go over some of the projects he was working on to see if she had any suggestions. She may even have some ideas about resolving the tensions between Avion and Andreenos.

He practically skipped down the tower stairs and greeted the guards on the gates jovially as he exited into the cobbled courtyard. The tall communications tower rose from a corner of the inner walls across from the central domed keep, its spire bristling with antennae and dishes that kept the royal court in contact with the other kingdoms, principalities and duchies of Eternia. The spring still in his step, he walked across the courtyard towards one of the dividing walls that separated the inner bailey into several defensible wards. Crossing beneath the open portcullis he entered a larger courtyard in which the main gates of the inner walls opened to a lower level of the palace complex. Passing through the open gatehouse into the mid-level bailey his workshops lay ahead, flush with the enclosing wall between the midlevel and outer bailey. The great doors of the workshop stood open, and the sounds of industry and metalwork sounded from within.

He was about to cross to the doors when he felt a curious sensation: first a slight pressure behind his eyes and then a faint ringing in his ears. He paused, looking around the courtyard until his eyes fell on a large falcon perched atop one of the palace walls, its amber eyes looking into him. The bird’s plumage was primarily orange, though its chest, collar and head were snowy-white. Its long tail feathers and the flights of its wings were royal blue, as were the feathers framing its eyes and pale-blue beak. Its talons were golden scaled with long glossy black claws. “Duncan, Man-at-Arms of Eternos,” said a sombre male voice inside his mind, “it has been many years since I have had need to call upon you, but the time has come again.”

Duncan nodded, recognising the falcon and the voice in his mind. “What is it you wish of me, Zoar?” he asked.

“You must bring the prince to Castle Grayskull immediately,” the Etherian god of winds and wisdom replied inside his mind. “The son of Randor must meet his destiny for events will soon overtake all of Tellus.”

“Adam?” Duncan asked. “He’s not ready. Please, Zoar, we need more time…”

“You have none,” the god replied. “The wanderer in the darkness has returned to Infinita, and Eternia will surely fall before his might if the son of Randor does not accept the role fate has prepared for him…”

“Wanderer in the darkness?” he asked, puzzled, before a dawning realisation spread across his face. “Do you mean Keldor? We Eternians defeated him before and we can do it again. The boy doesn’t need to suffer…”

The falcon ruffled its wings and changed its position atop the battlements but remained silent, its eyes boring into Man-at-Arms’ soul. The god had said all he intended to say: Zoar could no more be reasoned with than could the storms he commanded. He may as well plead with a tornado not to demolish the village in its path as ask the god to spare the prince his destiny…

He looked away from the bird, defeated. “Very well,” he said. “I will find the prince and bring him to the castle.”

The falcon released a piercing cry in response and then he heard its mighty wings beat against the air as it departed. He looked up to the sky as it dwindled to an orange speck in the southeast. With it departed his happiness and joviality over the Lady Miranda’s imminent return to the palace and he felt a deep sadness fill him. Keldor had returned, and with him would come war the likes of which had not been seen in Eternia for almost 20 years. The brewing conflict between Avion and Andreenos seemed suddenly unimportant by comparison. Should he tell the king and queen? But tell them what? He knew next to nothing right now, only that a terrible threat lay in Infinita far to the southeast, and the answers the king and queen needed likely lay in Castle Grayskull.

It was imperative he find the prince as soon as possible so they could get on their way…

*****

Princess Glimmer was heir to the throne of Brightmoon – one of the last free kingdoms of Etheria – but had been sent to safety in Eternos as a young girl after her father had been killed by the Horde. She was a young woman, barely past her second decade, with a dark olive complexion and pale amethyst eyes. Her hair was bright pink but appeared a glittering purple where it was shaded from direct light, and she currently wore it in looping braids fastened with pale-blue ribbons. She wore a short pink tunic over pale-blue leggings and purple leather boots. A shimmering translucent purple robe trimmed with silver blue sat over the top, fastened at her waist with a silver-blue metal belt, which billowed around her legs as she walked. Purple bracers were fastened around her forearms and a purple tiara sat in her hair.

As she crossed the courtyard to the communications tower, her heart was beating fast. She was nervous due to an unexpected summons by her mother. Because of her mother’s duties as queen of Brightmoon and de facto leader of the Etherian Great Rebellion, they spoke infrequently but regularly. It was not like her to contact Eternos on the spur of the moment, so it worried Glimmer that she would do it now. The tower’s guards – clad in their green and orange techno-armour suits and grey helmets – allowed her to enter and she climbed the spiral staircase within to one of the private communications rooms on the upper floors.

Within she found her old mentor, Kowl, waiting for her. The diminutive tan feathered Kolian had been in her mother’s service for as long as Glimmer could remember. He was barely more than a third of Glimmer’s height, with a rotund body and bird-like hands and feet. He had large intelligent golden eyes like an owl and a pale-blue beak with white feathers on his cheeks and chin and a ruff of white feathers around his neck. He wore a rust-coloured tunic with dark-blue trim that was fastened at the waist with a dark-blue sash belt, from the hem of which protruded his feathered bird-like tail. His most distinguishing feature, though, were his Kolian ear-wings that extended out from the sides of his head like the oversized ears of an elephant, covered in long rainbow-coloured feathers like the wings of a bird, their colours faded with age. The aged Kolian looked unusually dishevelled, his feathers somewhat puffed up and askew beneath his robes of office, and she could tell that he was as concerned as she was. “Your highness,” he greeted her, bowing his feathered head.

“Have you spoken to my mother yet?” she asked.

“Only for a short while,” he replied. “She asked me to summon you and then contact her again.”

“Is everything alright?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, your highness,” he replied, the long feathers of his ear-wings twitching as though about to take flight. He turned back to the central table console of the room and typed into the control panel with his stubby clawed fingers. Glimmer moved closer as he worked and stopped as the upper surface of the console lit up and a shimmering holographic image formed above it.

Queen Angella’s image shimmered in the air above the console, a tall and statuesque woman with dark skin, long red-gold braided hair and faintly luminous blue-green eyes. She was dressed for war in a pale-pink battle tunic and purple half-skirt with an iridescent blue-green jewelled belt and dark-pink leather boots trimmed with feathers and pale-pink greaves. Purple bracers inlaid with gold encircled her forearms and she wore a dark-pink breastplate with iridescent blue-green shoulder armour and a feathered collar. A pale-pink feather headdress covered her hair topped by a purple and gold enamelled dove skullcap and a golden sun disk detailed with dark-pink enamel. A pair of large bird-like wings emerged from her shoulders, the feathers pale pink on the outside and snowy white inside. “Hello, my daughter,” the queen said, a dignified yet strained smile on her face. “It is good to see you once again.”

“It’s good to see you too, mother,” Glimmer replied, unable to keep the nervousness from her voice. “Is everything okay in Brightmoon?”

For a moment she was sure a shadow passed over the queen’s radiant features before her expression became as inscrutable as ever. “I’m afraid that the Horde have stepped up their efforts to break through our defences,” the queen said. “They shall not succeed so long as I live, but there may be a period in which we cannot speak as regularly as before. I wanted to be sure you both knew why I may be unable to speak with you for some time to come so that you would not worry needlessly.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” said Kowl, though it was clear from the old Kolian’s tone that he intended to worry in any case.

Angella acknowledged him with a nod and warm smile. “I leave my daughter’s welfare in your hands, Master Kowl. I know that you shall not fail me.”

“I would rather die first,” he replied, puffing out his chest. “No harm shall come to the princess while she is in my care.”

Angella turned her gaze to her daughter, and Glimmer felt nervous all over again. She had not seen her mother in person for over a decade, and though they had spoken via hologram on many occasions during her time in Eternos, she felt that the distance that had grown between them was more than just one of geography. She loved her mother dearly, and yet she felt like they did not truly know one another at all. With the Horde armies encroaching on her mother’s kingdom, there was a chance that they might never close that distance, and one day it may be the last time they saw one another. “Do not worry, my daughter,” the queen said as though reading her thoughts. “Regent Catra and that traitor witch she keeps as a pet will have to try far harder to destroy me than they have to date if they wish to prevail. Brightmoon will not fall.”

“I don’t care about the kingdom!” Glimmer protested. “I’m worried about you!”

Angella smiled. “I will be okay, Glimmer. Brightmoon is still the strongest of the free kingdoms of Etheria and I am well protected within its wards.”

“I want to come home,” she told her mother. “I belong at your side helping you in this fight! You should never have sent me away!” She realised what she had said only after the words had sprung from her lips and she blushed, looking away from her mother. “I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that…”

“Glimmer,” the queen said sadly, “look at me.”

The princess lifted her gaze back to her mother’s holographic face and for the first time ever saw pain there. Loss.

“I never wanted to send you away, child,” she said, sadly. “But after your father was taken from us my desires were secondary to your safety. I knew Queen Marlena would care for you as her own daughter, and that was more than I could have done here in Etheria with the constant threat of war and siege dragging me away. And more than that I needed for you to be safe in a way you could never have been growing up here. Here you would have always been a target for the Horde, and I could not have put my duty to our kingdom before your safety. Had the Horde taken you or had your life been endangered then I would readily have surrendered Brightmoon to ensure your safety… In Eternos, you have had the opportunity to grow up in peace and happiness as you deserved. My sadness at your absence was a small price to pay to give you that. Were I able to change that decision, I would still do the same again because your safety and happiness are, and always were, my paramount concerns...” The queen paused, looking away from Glimmer for a moment, and in that moment the princess saw a reflection of herself in her mother’s complex warring emotions. After a few seconds she looked back at her daughter. “But if my decision has caused you pain then I am sorry for it. I love you more than anything else in this life.”

Glimmer blushed again, embarrassed to have caused her mother to show her vulnerability so openly. “No,” she said, raising her head to meet Angella’s gaze again. “You did the right thing. It has hurt to be apart, but you did what you thought was best for both me and our people. What more can I ask than that?”

Angella smiled weakly. “Thank you.” The queen stiffened, drawing herself straight and tall again, the warring emotions on her face replaced with her usual calm determination. When she spoke again her voice was once again strong and regal. “I’m afraid that is all the time we have for now. I have a meeting with our commanders to ensure we are ready when the Horde come.”

“Good luck, mother.”

Angella smiled. “I’ll take all the luck we can get,” she replied.

“Then good luck from me too, your majesty,” said Kowl, bowing his head respectfully.

“Thank you,” Angella replied. “I’ll contact you again as soon as I am able. Do not worry.”

Kowl nodded. “Yes, your majesty.”

“Good journey,” Angella said to them and her hologram broke apart into streamers of light that slowly faded to nothing as the console surface grew dark again.

As the last traces of holographic light dissipated, Glimmer stepped back from the console and burst into tears.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” Kowl muttered his feathers ruffling. The little Kolian, too small to hug Glimmer, reached up and took her hand in his. “Everything will be okay, princess,” he attempted to reassure her, though his own tone was filled with worry. “Your mother is a formidable woman. If anyone can keep Brightmoon safe she can…”

“I feel so helpless,” Glimmer replied, wiping away her tears. “I wish I could be there with her…”

“You heard what Queen Angella said,” he told her gently. “Here is the best place for you to be. The knowledge that you’re safe gives her the confidence to fight for our people as best she can without the Horde using you against her.”

“I understand that,” Glimmer sighed sadly. “But it doesn’t really make it any easier to be away from her. It feels like I’ve spent more of my life without my family than with them…”

Kowl patted her hand, his large wise eyes looking up to meet hers. “Not to be presumptuous, princess, but if it makes you feel at all better, I’ve always thought of you and Bow as my family…”

“Oh, Kowl,” Glimmer said, crouching down to his height and hugging him. “That’s not presumptuous at all. I feel the same.”

The Kolian placed his little arms around her as best he could, patting her shoulder gently. “I couldn’t have asked for a better family had I stayed in the forest,” he told her. “Every day you and Bow make me enormously proud. And if the queen were here to see it, I’m positive that she would feel the same way.”

Glimmer rested her head on Kowl’s shoulder. “Thank you, you silly old bird,” she said, smiling. The edges of Kowl’s mouth lifted either side of his beak in a smile of his own as he gently curled his ear-wing around her head, the soft feathers warm and gentle. “One day we’ll return to Etheria, princess,” he assured her. “And you’ll help your mother and our people drive the evil Horde from our land forever. And then we can all live in peace…”

“I hope so,” she replied.

“I know so,” he told her. “I have every faith in your mother, in you, and in our people. It may take many years, but we will have our freedom again…”

*****

Prince Adam of Eternos lay snoozing in the palace’s hedge maze, which had been constructed on one of the lower tiers of the palace gardens, hidden from the prying eyes of courtiers, servants or his royal parents. The young prince was tall and athletic with olive skin and scruffy blonde hair, shaved close on the back and sides and grown longer on top. He was wearing blue-grey leggings under a red-brown loincloth held up with a black leather belt. He wore fingerless blue-grey leather gauntlets with silver armour on the forearms and red-brown fur-trimmed leather boots that reached to his knees. Above the waist he was wearing a short red-brown sleeveless vest with gold pads at the shoulders.

He lay with his head resting on the flanks of the pet Eternian tiger he called Cringer, who slept curled around the prince’s shoulders. The tiger had been his constant companion for many years, having been rescued by the prince when it was just a cub, and though the beast was now middle-aged it had known nothing but the prince and the palace all its life. Like most Eternian tigers, Cringer’s fur was forest green with golden stripes, but where his wild kin were lean and ferocious Cringer was well-fed and placid, though no less strong when infrequently roused to the prince’s defence. From time to time the big cat would flick its tail in its sleep, or its nostrils would flare in response to some faint smell, but its eyes remained closed and it was content to allow the prince to use its side as a pillow.

The prince was not exactly asleep, but it pleased him to let the world think he was so that he was not bothered by the tedium of the court. He was a young man who often longed for adventures in a time where adventures were hard to come by and the legends of his heroic ancestors in Eternia’s dim and distant past were tales that he had, however reluctantly, come to accept would likely never feature in his own life. Even his own father had been a great warrior and general during the Great Unrest, both as a prince and as king, but Adam’s reign would be one of peacemaker and diplomat rather than warrior and general. Aside from the Horde occupying Etheria, there were no real threats to his future throne, and he felt sure the occupation would be over long before the crown was ever placed on his head. His father’s Man-at-Arms had trained him in the arts of war, but it was highly unlikely that he would ever need to call on those skills. He was, he had to admit, a little envious of his Etherian friends Glimmer and Bow, both of whom would one day return to Etheria to fight the Horde with the Great Rebellion. He was unlikely to have such an opportunity: his would be a life of meetings and functions and shaking the hands of dignitaries.

If he was honest, his existence bored him…

Opening his brown eyes, he sat up feeling restless. Cringer stirred at his movement and lifted his great head to look at him with luminous golden eyes. “It’s okay, Cringe,” the prince said, scratching the big cat between the ears and eliciting a loud, deep rumble of contentment. “I’m just bored. Let’s go find something to do…”

Cringer yowled his reluctance and lay his head back down.

“Oh, come on,” Adam begged. “If I don’t do something soon, I’m going to explode…”

The cat eyed him indifferently but refused to budge.

“We could call past the palace kitchens and see what the cooks are making for dinner,” he said with a conspiring grin.

Cringer cocked his head to one side and stared at him for a few moments before reluctantly climbing to his massive feet with a rumble of agreement.

“I knew food would motivate you, you old glutton,” the prince said with a grin, scratching Cringer behind the ears. “Come on then.”

Adam retraced his steps to the exit from the maze and out into one of the gardens, Cringer at his side. As they stepped out of the enclosing hedges onto a lawn flanked by flowerbeds overlooking Lake Eternos, Adam caught sight of his father and Bow walking in their direction and he felt his heart sink. Though he and Bow had been friends since the Etherian had arrived at court as a boy, he always felt as though the king were comparing the two of them now that they were young men and had found his own son lacking in the comparison. In many ways, Adam was forced to admit, Bow was much more like Randor than he was. Where Adam felt directionless, Bow had a clear sense of where his life was leading him and was dedicated to preparing for that well-defined future. Adam envied him that clarity, and in his heart of hearts he envied the relationship Bow had developed with his father over his years of being the king’s squire.

“Ah, Adam,” the king called to him as they approached one another. “Here you are.”

Though Randor’s tone appeared glad, Adam swore he could hear an underlying current of disappointment. “It’s a beautiful day, is it not?”

“Yes, father,” Adam replied, before greeting Bow with a friendly embrace.

“I’ve just passed your mother enjoying the sunshine,” the king told him. “She was wondering where you were.”

“Cringer and I were just in the maze,” Adam replied. “You know how this old cat loves to snooze.”

“Yes,” the king replied, smiling, but again Adam saw disapproval in his eyes. “I just hope he doesn’t follow it up by raiding the kitchens again.” He gave the tiger a disapproving look. Cringer lowered his head and yowled, causing the king and Bow to laugh. Randor scratched Cringer’s head.

Adam ran a hand through his hair awkwardly. “Yeah, I’ll keep him away from the kitchens.”

Randor looked to him with a wry smile. “Chef Hendel is quite right that having a tiger running around the kitchens is beyond the pale,” the king said jocularly. “I wouldn’t like to have to find a new head chef on top of everything else I need to do…”

“I said we won’t go near the kitchens!” Adam repeated, his tone short.

The king frowned. “Don’t take that tone with me! Just stay away from Chef Hendel and the kitchens. That’s all I ask.”

Adam looked down. “Yes, father,” he said, his tone stubborn.

Randor sighed. “Honestly, Adam, I don’t understand you at all sometimes. Why does my every interaction with you need to descend into an all-out battle?”  
“I’m sorry,” Adam replied stubbornly. “I just suppose I was destined to disappoint you, wasn’t I?”

“Adam…” the king began, but trailed off, shaking his head. “One day perhaps you and I will be able to speak like civilised beings,” he said, exasperated. “I’ll see you at dinner later. For your mother’s sake try to be in a better mood!”

Adam passed the king and Bow and continued his way, Cringer trailing along behind him. He felt hot with shame and anger and could not decide which was the more appropriate feeling.

Behind him, the king turned to his squire with a sad sigh that Adam was too far away to hear. “I don’t know what to do with that boy,” he said. “It’s like we’re strangers…”

“Adam is a good man,” Bow replied. “One day the two of you will figure things out.”

“Will we?” Randor asked sadly. “Honestly, I’m no longer sure of that…”

Behind them, Adam and Cringer climbed up a flight of marble stairs to a higher tier of the gardens. At the top, Adam stopped and sat down on a marble bench sculpted into the battlements that rimmed the terrace. With his elbows on his knees, he hung his head in his hands defeated. “Oh, Cringe,” he said, “I don’t think my father and I are ever going to see eye to eye on anything I do…”

In response the tiger sat beside him on its haunches and rested its immense head comfortingly in his lap. Adam gave him a welcome scratch between the ears, eliciting another rumble of contentment.

“I wish things were as easy between my father and me as they are between us, old cat,” he said absently. “We don’t even speak the same language and we understand one another better than my father understands me…”

As Adam sat alone with his misery, a small spectral figure watched from an upper terrace of the gardens, floating in the air. It wore an oversized crimson robe trimmed with gold with billowing sleeves and skirts, a gold sash belt stitched with little silver bells fastened around the waist of the robe, a long flowing purple scarf around the neck and a big wide-brimmed pointed red-brown hat with pale-blue feathers in the brim. Its only visible features were a pair of glowing golden eyes in the shadows below the brim of the hat. After watching for a few seconds, the figure floated over the retaining wall’s battlements and drifted down towards the prince and his pet. Approaching the prince from behind with a faint tinkling of bells, the robed figure extended a hand clad in a pale-blue glove from within a billowing sleeve and touched the prince on the shoulder.

“Is something wrong, your highness?” it asked.

The prince started at the touch and looked around to see the figure floating behind him. “Oh, Orko,” he said, “it’s you.”

“Sorry if I startled you, Adam,” the figure responded. “I saw you sitting here, and it looked like you needed someone to cheer you up…”

“Honestly,” Adam answered with a sigh, “right at this moment I think I do…”

“No problem,” Orko replied cheerily. “Would you like to see my latest magic trick?”

Adam gave him a quizzical look. “This isn’t going to make me disappear, or turn me into a foot stool, is it?”

Orko drifted over the bench to float in front of Adam, his gloved hands positioned as though rested on his hips. “When has my magic ever done that?” he asked incredulously.

The prince cocked an eyebrow and smiled wryly. “Well, the other day you did turn Man-at-Arms’ new snow-raider into a giant basket of fruit…”

“That was a one-off,” Orko replied, “and I managed to turn it back… eventually…”

“I’m not sure he appreciated the jelly you left in the fuel tank, though,” Adam chuckled. “So, what’s your new trick?”

Orko raised him arms with a flourish, his robes billowing out around him impressively, and bells jingling. “For my latest act of sorcery,” he pronounced, “I will juggle several balls of liquid water without spilling any…”

Adam clapped, wondering how this spell would go wrong.

With a flourish of his hands, Orko produced two ball of water floating effortlessly in mid-air. Taking one in each glove he began to juggle them from hand to hand. Then, as one ball was in the air, he wiggled his fingers to produce a third and added it to the others, deftly juggling all three. After a few seconds, he conjured a fourth ball of water, and then a fifth, and a sixth, his hands moving like lightning to keep them all up in the air.

Adam clapped again. “Orko, I’m sincerely impressed!” he told the magician.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, your highness,” Orko replied as he conjured three new balls of water and added them to the display. For a few seconds, it looked to Adam like he might almost manage to keep all nine in the air, and then one disintegrated into a splash of water as it hit Orko’s gloved hand. Distracted by the unexpected wetness, Orko looked to his glove and broke his concentration. Another ball of water burst in mid-air, drenching his hat, then a third exploded over his robes. His focus completely gone, Orko quickly found himself drenched with water, his wet robes dragging him to the ground where a puddle slowly formed around him. His body barely registered under the sodden material clinging to the ground.

“Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen…” he mumbled to himself.

Adam burst out laughing, holding his sides as he watched the alien apparition struggle to lift his sodden robes from the ground. “Thank you, Orko,” he managed to say amid his mirth, tears in his eyes. “I needed that.”

“If I had my amulet that would’ve been child’s play,” Orko grumbled, drying himself off with a gesture and floating back up into the air. “As it is it takes nearly all my magic just to have some substance about me…”

“Oh, Orko, you have plenty of substance about you,” Adam replied. “We all make mistakes sometimes.”

“Oh, I know,” Orko sighed, “but where I come from, I was one of the mightiest magicians in the realm. Here, without my amulet to keep me from fading away to nothing, it takes so much of my magic just to cling to your dimension that I can barely manage the basics of conjuration. Can you imagine how that feels?”

“What?” Adam asked. “To know there’s so much more to who you are than just what other people are able to see?” He sighed. “Yeah, Orko, I can imagine…”

“Ah,” Orko said with dawning realisation. “That’s why you were upset… Have you been arguing with your father again?”

“I-” Adam began, then stopped. “Well, I wouldn’t call it an argument as such. I just wish he could see in me what he sees in Bow…”

Orko floated to the prince’s side on the bench and put a soothing hand on his shoulder. “You know the king loves you, right?” he asked.

“Does he?”

“Of course he does,” Orko replied with astonishment. “I can see it quite clearly.”

“Then why can we never seem to get along?”

Orko pondered for a moment before replying. “As my Uncle Montork always used to say, the people who love us the most are often the ones who can hurt us the most. Often without even realising it… Have you ever thought how the king must feel knowing there’s such a gulf growing between the two of you?”

“Disappointed?” Adam asked.

“A little,” Orko replied.

Adam turned angrily away, shrugging the weird magician’s hand from his shoulder. “So, you do think I’m a disappointment to him?” he asked sullenly.

Orko started, surprised, and then chuckled. “No, silly,” he told the prince. “I think he’s disappointed in himself for not being able to connect with you the way he can with Bow. Did you never think of that?”

Adam looked back to Orko; his expression bewildered. “No,” he replied. “Why would he be disappointed in himself? He’s everything a king should be… and I’m not.”

“Maybe that’s true and maybe it isn’t,” said Orko. “But he’s probably wondering whether or not he’s been the best father he could have been. If you can’t connect with your only son no matter how hard you try, then that question has to be one you ask yourself a lot…”

“When did you become so insightful?” Adam asked.

Orko puffed out his robes. “I’ve always been insightful. It’s just nobody ever takes the time to listen to me…” He deflated instantly at his own admission, becoming even smaller than before and hanging his own head miserably.

It was Adam’s turn to put his hand on the magician’s shoulder (or where Adam assumed his shoulder to be) “And maybe they’re all missing out…” he said.

“Thanks, Adam,” Orko replied, his robes billowing out again as though he had grown inches taller.

“So, do you have any insightful ideas of how I talk to my father without it descending into a fight?” Adam asked.

“Well, firstly, unless you’ve been hiding it from me all these years, you Eternians aren’t mind readers so don’t assume that what you think he’s thinking is actually what’s going on in his head,” Orko said. “If you assume his opinion of you is negative then you’re going to produce a negative opinion of you by the way you’re reacting.”

“And?” Adam asked, clearly interested.

Before Orko could reply, Man-at-Arms came running down the steps towards them, calling Adam’s name. His tone was clearly urgent and the way he was running made Adam feel suddenly unnerved. He stood up as Duncan approached and the two clasped forearms in greeting. “Prince Adam, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Duncan said, a little out of breath. “I need you to come with me. It’s very urgent.”

“Where?” Adam asked, puzzled. Then a disturbing thought occurred to him. “Are my parents alright?”

“It’s not your parents,” Duncan said. “But it’s imperative that we get going…”

“Where?” Adam asked.

Duncan looked momentarily flustered, as though not entirely sure how to reply. Eventually, with a sigh, he replied. “You’re wanted at Castle Grayskull.”

“Castle Grayskull?” Adam asked, confused. “That’s just an old legend from the time of the Ancients. Surely it can’t still be standing after all this time…”

Duncan rubbed a hand over his face, clearly frustrated. “The castle still stands,” he said. “It’s in the Majestic Mountains above the Wastelands.”

Adam screwed his face up. “The Wastelands? That’s on the edge of the dark hemisphere. Why would anyone want to meet me there of all places?”

Duncan sighed, exasperated. “Look, your highness,” he said, “we don’t have time for this. Everything will become clear when we get to the castle.”

“But I don’t-”

“Adam!” Man-at-Arms snapped, cutting him off. “Just trust me on this!”

“Okay, okay,” Adam replied, raising his hands in surrender. “I just wish I knew what was so important about some old castle that’s not been used for 5000 years…”

Adam climbed to his feet and scratched Cringer’s head. “You wait here, old cat,” he told the rumbling tiger before turning to Man-at-Arms. “Let’s go then…”

“Thank you,” Duncan replied with a sigh of relief. “I know this is all confusing, but I promise you it’ll all make sense soon enough.”

“Can I tag along?” Orko asked, head cocked to one side. “I’ve always wanted to see Castle Grayskull.”

Duncan gave him a puzzled frown before sighing. “Yes, okay, you can come, but can we please go now?”

“Lead the way,” Orko replied cheerily.

Leaving Cringer to sprawl out on the grass in the sun, the three of them headed back the way Man-at-Arms had come, climbing to the upper terrace of the gardens and then around the inner wall to Man-at-Arms’ workshop. They passed quickly through the upper techsmithy and down to the palace’s spacious subterranean hangars.

A work crew of diminutive green-skinned Nerlins were preparing one of the palace’s wind-raiders as they approached and began to disconnect the fuelling and charging umbilicals. “All fuelled and ready, Duncan,” the crew chief said as they came close.

“Thank you, Grel,” Duncan replied.

The wind-raider was a green and orange craft with a central boat-like fuselage flanked by two large booster jets that ran almost the full length of the fuselage. Midway along the length was a canopied cabin with seats for a pilot, co-pilot, up to three passengers and space behind for a small amount of cargo. At the prow of the fuselage was a stylised long-snouted dragon head incorporating the primary weapons array and at the tail a vertical rudder with horizontal stabiliser flaps. Amidships extended a pair of wide stylised dragon-like wings.

As the Nerlins moved aside, Duncan opened the spacious cabin of the craft and climbed into the pilot’s chair. Adam climbed into the co-pilot seat beside him while Orko floated into the long passenger bench behind. With a flick of switches and a press of buttons, Man-at-Arms brought the vehicle to life, its engines humming to life before the turbines began to rumble. Opening the throttle, the ship began to roll forward on its landing gear towards the far end of the hangar where a set of armoured doors stood closed. As the canopy began to close, Man-at-Arms tapped an intercom button on the side of his helmet over the ear and spoke. “Man-at-Arms to control, preparing for launch, all lights are green. Begin main hangar flight sequence.”

“Copy,” came the reply from the hangar’s hidden control centre somewhere deeper in the palace complex. In response, the huge doors began to cycle open, rising into the ceiling. Rows of guide lights lit up down the centre of the hangar towards the door and Man-at-Arms turned the wind-raider onto the launch-way.

Once the craft was aligned with the doors, Man-at-Arms opened the throttle further and the wind-raider began to accelerate down the launch-way towards the open door and the blue skies beyond. The closer the doors came, the more he opened the throttle until the hangar and the other aircraft lined up down its flanks flashed past so fast it became impossible to focus on them, and then there was a bump as the wind-raider passed through the doors and left the hangar behind completely before banking out over the lake and towards the southeast across the plains of Eternos. To the south the Eternian Highlands slowly rose above the horizon as they gained altitude and speed, and they flew on towards their eastern edge where the foothills blended gently into the Fields of Evermore that separated Eternos from the Endless Forest and the Eternal Mountains. Beyond the highlands lay the Sea of Rakash, and beyond that the peaks of the Majestic Mountains and the Wastelands.

*****

Teela finished up her daily exercises in the gardens and wiped her brow and neck dry with a towel. She did not really feel as though she was pushing herself if she did not break a sweat, and as uncomfortable as it was having it trickle down her back under her tunic and armour, she never shied away from it. Her conversation earlier with the queen had set her routine back a little, but nothing that she could not catch up on with a bit of determination for the rest of the day. Folding away her collapsible staff and sliding it into her weapons bag with her sword and buckler, she hefted the bag up onto her shoulder and headed for the armoury to stow them safely away.

Once she left the armoury, having passed some pleasantries with the guards on duty, she headed towards the palace library to do some studying. She was determined to make captain of the palace guard one day, and that meant her dedicating herself to learning all she could about tactics, strategy and sieges. Her adopted father, the Man-at-Arms, often told her that she pushed herself far too hard and that she should allow herself more time to enjoy life while she was young and relatively free of responsibilities but, as far as she was concerned, she just knew what she wanted and was focussed on getting there. If others preferred to be less focussed, then that just gave her the edge on them in getting to her goals. When they had been younger, she and Adam had both dreamed of growing up to captain the royal guard, but as they had grown older Adam’s drive had proven to be less than her own and it was pretty much guaranteed that, when an opening appeared, she was at the head of the queue.

She was already reaching into her satchel for the reading list of books she intended to study that day as she entered the palace library, greeting the royal librarian with a distracted nod of the head as she worked out where, in the huge labyrinth of shelves, she would find the reading materials she wanted. As she entered the reading room to find a space to study in peace, she startled to find someone else was already there ahead of her: Glimmer sat at the large central table surrounded by leather-bound tomes of Etherian histories. The younger woman looked like she was ready to do anything other than study, and though several books lay open to be read her attention was elsewhere.

“Hello, Glimmer,” Teela greeted her. “I’m just here for some books I want to study. I’ll try not to disturb you too much.”

“It’s okay,” Glimmer replied with a sigh. “I’m not really in the mood for studying today anyway. Kowl thought giving me something to do might take my mind off things, but it’s not working very well…”

“Is everything okay?” Teela asked as she crossed to the table and deposited her satchel on it across from Glimmer.

“I’m just worrying myself over nothing, I’m sure…” she replied absently.

“Would it help to talk about it? It may be nothing, but it clearly has you upset…”

“My mother called today. She says the Horde are about to launch a fresh offensive against Brightmoon and it may be some time before we can speak again…” As she said the words, tears filled her eyes. “…I know our kingdom is protected by some of the strongest wards on Tellus, but it’s been over two decades since they were put in place and magic enchantments don’t last forever. And if our armies need to go out to engage the Horde in the field to score a decisive victory, I worry that something terrible might happen… And I feel so powerless stuck here thousands of miles across the ocean unable to do anything while my mother risks everything for our people…”

Teela circled the table to sit down next to Glimmer and put a comforting arm around the younger woman’s shoulders. “I can imagine how terrible that must feel,” she said. “When I was little, there were times when my father was sent to meet with kingdoms that hadn’t accepted King Randor’s appointment as high king. I could never sleep well until I knew he was on his way back. I had some horrible nightmares…”

“What if she dies?” Glimmer asked her out of the blue, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “I haven’t been able to hold my mother in over a decade, Teela, and I think maybe I’ll never see her alive again…”

Teela hugged her closer, feeling tears prick at her own eyes. She knew exactly how that felt. Teela did not really remember her mother or who she was. Man-at-Arms had adopted her when she was only a few years old and she felt the hole where a mother’s love should be every day of her life. And, like Glimmer, her deepest and most secret fear was that she would never get to see or hold her mother again, and that hole would never be filled.

“Queen Angella is a formidable sorceress,” Teela reassured her, blinking back her tears. “Let’s not forget this is the hero of the Battle of the Meadowlands we’re talking about: the woman who singlehandedly routed a legion of Horde troopers as her army retreated to the safety of Brightmoon.”

Glimmer remembered that day: it was the day her father, King Micah, had been lost to the Horde. Her mother’s rage had won that battle, but her grief afterwards had been what made her send Glimmer away to Eternos. And her mother had not been the same after her father’s death: her tactics had become more defensive, more reliant on the magical wards that the Elders of Eternia had enchanted upon the ancient moonstone that adorned the great tower of Brightmoon Palace to protect her kingdom and people, and for over a decade her armies had largely stood idle while the Great Rebellion had taken the real risks to free Etheria. It was, she realised, a painful admission to herself that perhaps the fight had gone out of her mother, and that was why she was truly worried that this time, if the Horde intended to break through the Elders’ wards, her mother might not be able to stand against their advance…

“My mother isn’t the same woman who routed the Horde that day,” she admitted to her friend. “My father’s death changed her…”

Teela loosened her embrace so that she could meet Glimmer’s gaze. “I think you’re letting your worries get the better of you,” she said gently. “But even if you’re right, Queen Angella has military advisors and generals who she can rely on. She’s not fighting the entire Horde occupation on her own, you know.” She gave Glimmer a gentle smile and a look that said, ‘you know I’m right.’

Glimmer nodded, drying her eyes. “I know, I know,” she said, drying her eyes. “I just wish I could go home and help. I feel utterly useless stuck here an ocean away from where my people are fighting for their freedom…”

“You will go home,” Teela reassured her. “You’re becoming a powerful sorceress and, when the time is right, you’ll go back to Etheria and help your mother…”

“I hope it’s soon,” Glimmer sighed. “I think I’d actually worry less if I was there with her when she’s in danger…”

Teela looked across to her satchel and the reading list she had intended to work through that day. With an inner sigh, she spoke cheerily. “You need something to take your mind of all this properly. How about we go and do something fun?”

“Oh, but you have all your studying to do,” Glimmer replied.

Teela shook her head. “It’ll still be there tomorrow. Right now, I think you need me more than it does.”

“You’re sure?”

Teela nodded. “I’ve never been surer. What would you like to do? I could saddle us up some horses and we could take a ride around the lake. We could see if Chef Hendel could pack us something to eat and have a picnic on the shore.”

“That sounds lovely,” Glimmer replied, smiling happily.

“Then that’s settled,” Teela said, returning the smile. “Let’s go and see what the kitchen can pack for us and then head for the stables.”

Glimmer nodded, her mood already lightening, and the two women headed out of the library into the bright sunny day.

*****

The wind-raider carrying Man-at-Arms, Adam and Orko had crossed the great peaks of the Majestic Mountains after a few hours of flight and for about an hour had been tracking southeast along the eastern flanks of the range with the Sea of Smoke to their left. Ahead the mountains turned south, beyond which opened the barren arid plains of the Wastelands that bordered Eternia and Infinita. The great globe of Serenia sat heavily across the eastern horizon, only its red bands visible in the blue sky but washed out to a pale purplish pink.

As the Wastelands approached, Man-at-Arms brought the craft into a steady descent until they were close enough to the ground to see the sparse stunted trees and volcanic mud pools that lay beneath them. The mountains here were volcanic, though it was rare for eruptions to occur on this side of the Wastelands; on the other side, though, where the two great continents of Eternia and Infinita were slowly being forced together by Tellus’s plate tectonics, sat the smoking Mountains of Fire. Other individual volcanoes dotted the interior of the Wastelands and the region was at constant risk of earthquakes. This volcanism gave the neighbouring sea its name, surrounded as it was on all sides by the mountains being pushed up by the gradual collision of the continents either side of it and dotted with volcanic islands.

As the wind-raider passed over the western edge of the Wastelands, Man-at-Arms banked it around to the southwest and back towards the mountains and their alpine valleys. There, at the head of a high mountain pass, Adam saw a tall tower of mossy grey-green stone rising from the mountainside. It looked ancient, and aside from the crenulated battlements at its summit he could make out only a few small arrow-slits close to the top but no signs of a gate or door. “Is that the castle?” he asked, pointing to the tower.

Man-at-Arms shook his head. “No, your highness” he said. “That’s Grayskull Tower that stands in the pass above the castle. The legends say the tower was built first, by the Ancients themselves, and the castle built later below it by one of your ancestors.”

At that moment, the valley below the pass was hidden by the surrounding peaks and ridges of the Majestic Mountains, but a few moments later the wind-raider crossed surrounding ridges and the valley floor was revealed. Adam was surprised by how large that valley was: below the high pass it spread wide and relatively flat between the mountains, its floor riven by a great chasm that split the valley in three, into which poured two great waterfalls from the high snow-clad mountains to the south and west before thundering through the chasm as a mighty river that wound down the eastern side of the valley. The river rushed out of the valley to the north through a winding bottleneck ravine edged by steep cliffs and rocky crags into the forested foothills of the mountains. The only route into the valley on foot was a narrow ledge that ran above the river along the side of the ravine, making the location strategically secure.

The castle itself stood on a raised promontory beneath the high south-western pass on which Grayskull Tower stood. The chasm surrounded its high walls to the north and east, with the mountain crags behind it. It had five corner towers, two either side of the east-facing entrance and the other three arranged equidistant around the perimeter of the great keep. Like the tower in the pass above, its walls were made of mossy grey-green stone and its towers topped by crenulated battlements. Turrets and crenulated ramparts adorned the main walls of the keep at various levels, from which in aeons past the castle’s defenders would have been able to rain down arrows on any besieging forces. Arrow slits and gothic arched windows adorned the walls and corner towers in other places, but they were dark and empty.

Adam had heard legends of his semi-mythical ancestor, King Grayskull, for most of his life, but until seeing the ancient king’s castle he had never understood the king’s unusual moniker. Now, though, he was in no doubt about its origins: between the two gate towers stood a great stone skull almost as high as the flanking towers. It was dark grey, almost black, and where the rest of the castle was covered in moss and lichen the skull was bare stone, as though some unknown force prevented the elements of Tellus from reclaiming it. A crenulated rampart ran across the forehead of the skull, connecting the two gate towers, its design reminiscent of the circlet of a great barbarian king. The skull’s empty eye sockets were probably tall enough for a large man to stand upright in with room to spare, and its incisors were long and pointed. On either side of the upper mandible, a great stone tusk extended down to penetrate deep into the ground on which the castle stood, and between these immense tusks hung the keep’s main gate facing the chasm.

As the wind-raider began to descend towards the valley, more features became visible. Below the castle, the chasm cut across the valley floor roughly due east. On both sides were the mossy ruins of once great defensive walls extending from the mountain crags in the east to flank the promontory on which the castle had been raised. Behind this broken barrier he could make out the ancient foundations of other buildings at the southern end of the valley below the pass to Grayskull Tower where once a great bailey had serviced the keep and its defenders. The ruins of twin gatehouses could be seen in this southern wall – one extending an arched half-bridge towards the great skull entrance of the keep and the other guarding a stone bridge that arched across the chasm to a ruined barbican extending out from the northern wall. There were yet more ruined structures outside the barbican extending up the valley floor to the north where the ruins of another great wall could be seen atop defensive earthworks, enclosing enough space for a small city. Yet it seemed like no one had called the valley home in millennia, and now twisted stunted trees and scrub grew amid what must once have been a majestic sight.

With a roar of vertical thrusters, Man-at-Arms set the wind-raider down on a relatively flat area a few hundred yards from the ruins of the barbican. Once they were down, he cut the engines and switched off the power, then popped the canopy. The valley was eerily quiet; the only sound the mournful cries of the wind through the surrounding mountains. The wind-raider had put down in what might have once been a great cobbled square of this ruined city, though many of the cobbles had been ripped up and dirt and moss had blown in over the centuries giving rise to sickly looking grasses and weeds that sprung up all around. From the ground, Adam could see that little of the city still stood above the foundations: a bit of stone wall here, a collapsed archway there, a toppled column or great statue elsewhere. The only structures remaining in anything close to an intact state were the castle itself high up in the southwest, the ruins of the barbican on the edge of the chasm, and one or two other structures of unknown purpose dotted around the landscape.

“Well, this looks like a lovely place for a meeting,” he said wryly. “Don’t tell me someone actually lives here…?” He looked across to Man-at-Arms expecting an answer, but the older man only frowned and pointed towards the barbican.

“This must have been an impressive looking city in its day,” said Orko, floating up beside Adam. “It’s nearly as big as Eternos.”

“This was the heart of King Grayskull’s kingdom,” Adam explained. “From here he led the fight against Hordak to free Tellus during the Great Horde Wars thousands of years ago. It only stands to reason, I suppose, that there would have been a great city built up around his castle. But the legends say that after Grayskull’s death the throne moved to Eternos.”

“Let’s go,” Man-at-Arms said to them, trudging away from the wind-raider towards the barbican. “We don’t have all day.”

“What’s so urgent?” Orko asked Adam, puzzled.

“I wish I knew,” the prince said, frowning.

“Come on!” Man-at-Arms called from ahead.

“I guess we should be going,” Orko said with a shrug, and the two of them trudged after the older man.

There were the remains of a broad cobblestone road leading from where the wind-raider had landed to the barbican’s outer gate. To either side of it stood the remains of an avenue of great stone statues, their features long worn away by time and frost and the wind. The mighty sentinels must once have looked particularly imposing, Adam imagined, only adding to the intimidating structure of the barbican itself that they stood guarding the way towards.

The barbican itself, even in partial ruins, was enough to provoke fear and awe. Though the towers of its outer gates were broken and cracked, the gateway between them remained intact and the stone blocks it had been constructed of had been carved into a smaller replica of the great skull of the keep above. This smaller skull loomed over the cobblestone road, its empty sockets glaring down on all who approached. Beneath its upper jaw Adam could make out the rusted steel spikes of an old portcullis, and great rusted hinges on either side of the gate indicated where there had once been great wooden doors that could have been barred by the defenders to prevent access to the bridge spanning the chasm.

“Amazing!” Orko marvelled as they passed beneath the glaring skull. “This must have been an imposing gatehouse when it was intact!”

Adam nodded but found himself unable to speak. Within the gate, the wooden upper floors of the barbican had long since rotted to dust and he could see empty doorways leading into the gate towers and the remains of the structure on several distinct levels. The remains of a stone staircase hung in the air in an alcove in the walls to one side, the floors it had once connected long gone. Light was visible through many of the doors, but some were still dark and ominous where the walls and roofs beyond were still intact. Passing through the inner gate they entered the barbican courtyard, to either side of which rose more ruined towers, and across which stood the fallen archway that led to the bridge. The courtyard cobbles were mossy, and weeds sprung up between them. A few stunted trees had grown there over the centuries, their seeds blown in on the wind and their roots had undermined parts of the building, but their branches were mostly bare of leaves and their bark was bone white.

It was like nothing alive could thrive in the valley, Adam realised with a shudder, and decided that he wished he had stayed in Eternos where the land itself did not feel unhealthy and diseased. Nevertheless, he continued to follow Man-at-Arms across the courtyard to the stone bridge that spanned the chasm. He was surprised by how loud the thundering river grew as he passed under the ruined archway onto the bridge. It was unnatural how quickly the sound died away to nothing away from the chasm – like the silence of the valley itself drowned out sound – and Adam suppressed a shudder as on the other side of the chasm the river sounds again died to nothing upon him passing beneath the ruined gatehouse and into the castle bailey.

The keep glowered down at him to the right from its promontory and Adam felt the sudden sensation that his presence here was resented by the castle itself. It had kept its secrets here for aeons and had no desire to share them with the living now. For his own peace of mind, he looked away from the glowering skull above and surveyed the bailey. Like the city, there were a few ruined walls, exposed foundations and toppled columns amid the weeds, mossy cobbles and stunted trees. Once the bailey looked like it may have been subdivided into several wards, with the cobbled road winding through them between its two gatehouses and the way up to the mountain pass, but the dividing walls were now little more than rubble and foundations, only distinguishable from the building foundations by their thickness. Adam shivered, but the air was not particularly cold.

“This place doesn’t want us here,” he whispered to himself.

“Don’t worry, Adam,” Orko reassured him. “There’s powerful magic lingering here to frighten off intruders but I don’t think there’s any real danger.”

“You’re sure about that?” Adam asked.

“Mostly,” the magician replied.

“Hurry up you two!” Man-at-Arms shouted as he cut across one of the ruined walls towards the gatehouse that led to the keep. There were badly eroded stone steps leading up to the gatehouse, the towers of which had fallen almost to their foundations and brought down the archway of the gate with them. All that remained were a few ramshackle piles of stones and the misshapen uprights of the gates, which themselves may have once been carved with two pairs of guardian warriors flanking the way. There was a slight upward slope between the two gates that continued out onto the half-arch bridge that extended out across the chasm towards the gate of the keep.

Adam stopped just within the ruins of the gate, looking up at the looming stone skull that seemed to glare back down at him with open malice. Something told him that if he passed beneath that imposing countenance and through the gates of its mouth he would never come back out. At least, not as he had entered…

As if the castle had heard his thoughts, he heard ratchets and chains echoing from within its gates and as he watched its great drawbridge yawned open to land with a crash on the end of the half-arch only feet away from where Man-at-Arms stood. The surface of the drawbridge was decorated with curved spikes around its edge, adding to the impression that the entrance of the keep was a yawning mouth waiting to swallow them whole. The castle interior seemed to drink in the light so that nothing was visible beyond the great maw but shadows and deeper shadows.

“We’re going in there?” Adam asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Don’t worry, Adam,” Man-at-Arms said. “There’s nothing in Castle Grayskull that you need to fear.”

“And what about the rest of us?” Orko asked with a nervous chuckle, his usually billowing robes sucked in close to whatever lay inside them.

Before Man-at-Arms could respond, the shrill cry of a bird pierced the silence of the valley and the three of them looked to see an Eternian falcon launch itself from a perch hidden high on the ruined gate and, with its wings spread wide, soar across the chasm and into the castle. The shadows seemed to part before it and it circled twice within the entrance, calling out again as though for them to follow before swooping deeper into the castle.

“Let’s get going,” Man-at-Arms said, stepping onto the drawbridge and heading across to the castle.

Orko dithered a moment before floating after him. “I’ve always been too curious for my own good,” he joked, looking back to Adam.

“You know what they say,” Adam replied, looking again at the great glowering stone skull above the drawbridge. “Curiosity killed the Konseal…” Swallowing his fear he finally stepped out onto the half-bridge and crossed to the drawbridge. He paused mid-step at the edge of the drawbridge before, with a deep breath, he stepped from the stone onto the braced wood and then followed the others into the castle.

Behind them the drawbridge groaned, and then with another rumble of machinery and chains it raised back up to seal the entrance closed. The valley fell silent once again…

*****

The interior of Castle Grayskull was unnaturally dark. The dark grey-green stone of the walls and floor seemed to drink the light. The drawbridge opened onto a large, vaulted chamber with a stone archway leading back into the castle and steps to either side that led to doors into the flanking towers. Beyond the archway was a similarly vaulted hall, the roof held up by stone pillars adorned with gargoyles down either side. Behind the perimeter colonnades were only deeper shadows than those that filled the main vault, though there appeared to be a gallery running down either side behind the columns on an upper level. It was so dark that were anyone watching from that gallery they would have been completely undetectable to those below them in the hallway.

Adam hurried to keep up with Man-at-Arms and Orko as they passed through the hall. They themselves were also hurrying a little to stay within the sphere of spectral illumination that seemed to surround the falcon, although the bird did not appear to be producing the light itself. The vaulted hall continued for what felt like an impossible distance into the castle: from the outside Adam had made a rough estimate of the dimensions of the castle, and the hall seemed to run much further than the distance between the castle’s outer walls. The hall came to an end at a large set of braced wooden doors, to either side of which the hall continued into the shadows at a T shaped junction.

The falcon disappeared through a shadowy arch above the great door, leaving its three pursuers in complete darkness. Adam felt his skin crawl in the darkness, which seemed to come alive with movement around him the minute the falcon disappeared. “Duncan!” he called, his voice sounding ridiculously small and far away.

“Don’t panic,” came Man-at-Arms’ reply, his voice sounding incredibly distant and muffled. “We’re safe here.”

“If you say so,” Adam replied, swallowing the panic in his throat.

“This is all fascinating!” said Orko from somewhere Adam could not identify. “I’ve never felt magic like this before!”

Before anyone could say any more, there was a sudden sound of locks being turned and latches being drawn back, and then a crack of bright white light lit the hall, widening as the doors began to swing open in front of them. Adam was so happy to be out of the darkness that he rushed forward heedless of potential danger. Man-at-Arms and Orko followed him into the room beyond with less urgency.

As their eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, they found themselves in the great throne room of the castle. Like the hallway they had left, it was a high vaulted chamber with a colonnade down either side supporting an upper gallery level. The vaulted ceiling glowed with an inner light that more than adequately illuminated the floor beneath it. The stone of the walls and columns was a pale-grey and the floor was polished black marble swirled with gold. The columns holding up the ceiling and gallery were carved into the shapes of imposing robed men and women of many of the races of Tellus, and Adam recognised them from the history books as the Eternian Elders who had watched over Tellus and its people before their disappearance during the Great Unrest. A raised central aisle ran much of the length of the chamber from the doors to its far side, where there rose a stepped dais atop which stood a great polished bronze disk inscribed with strange mystical symbols around its edge. To either side of the disk stood a carved obelisk and in front of the great disk sat a large ornate throne that combined the skeletal visage of the castle with the motif of a great bird.

The sound of the falcon’s calls filled the air, drawing their attention upward to where the bird began to spiral down from the brightness of the vault. As it reached the mid-point of its descent, it broke the spiral and banked for the dais where it landed perched on the back of the throne. Man-at-Arms stepped out onto the raised aisle that led to the throne and, with Orko and Adam following nervously, crossed to the foot of the steps. “The prince is here,” Man-at-Arms called to the bird, indicating Adam.

Adam felt a brief pressure behind his eyes and then heard a man’s voice speak in response. “So I see. Thank you, Duncan, Man-at-Arms of Eternos.” He could not see who had spoken as aside from the three of them and the falcon the room was empty.

“May I return to Eternos now, Zoar?” Man-at-Arms asked, his attention fixed firmly on the falcon.

Adam started at the name “Zoar?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes, young prince,” came the man’s voice again. “I am Zoar, god of winds and wisdom. Or at least, I speak to you through the avatar before you on the throne.”  
Adam’s eyebrows shot up and his attention focussed on the falcon. “You’re the Etherian god Zoar?” he asked, astounded.

“I can speak through many channels, young prince,” the god responded. “But for now, I speak through this one.”

“And you asked Man-at-Arms to bring me here?”

“I did,” the god replied. “The time has come for you to meet your destiny.”

“My destiny?” Adam asked. “I’m heir to the throne of Eternos. Is that not enough of a destiny?”

“The throne of Eternos has been entwined with your destiny since long before you were born, young prince,” Zoar replied. “But to be king may be the smallest part of it. A far greater fate awaits you, Adam of Eternos…”

“What fate?” Adam asked, both fascinated and frightened at the prospect.

“Your birth was foretold five aeons ago by the Goddess of Eternia in a prophecy long since forgotten by all but a tiny few on Tellus,” Zoar told him. “To reveal all of it to you now would risk corrupting it, but you will face great adversity and great evil on the path you shall tread, and the fates of Tellus and the entire universe will rest upon your shoulders. The choices you make on that path will decide the futures of everything and everyone in existence.”

“But if I’m destined for anything it’s a quiet and dull life of diplomacy and peacekeeping!” Adam insisted. “I’m no great leader or warrior or sorcerer. I can’t decide the future of the entire universe. I’m just one man!”

“You have no concept of what you are,” Zoar responded. “Not yet. But you will.”

Adam felt the pressure behind his eyes release and the falcon let out another shriek before spreading its wings and taking flight. It circled the hall before swooping into land in front of them at the foot of the dais.

When it was within several feet of the floor there was a bright flash of light around the bird and before their eyes the falcon began to change its shape and size, growing and shifting into the form of a tall and statuesque olive-skinned woman. She was dressed in a sleeveless white feather tunic that reached her knees above a pair of blue leather boots trimmed with white feathers and with gold armour over the shins and knees. Blue and gold bracers enclosed her wrists and gold bracelets circled her upper arms. Over the tunic she wore the white enamel and gold breastplate of a warrior. From her shoulders emerged a pair of bird-like wings, the feathers orange and blue on the outside and white on the inside like the falcon’s had been. A white feather headdress covered her head and fell around her shoulders, topped with a blue-enamel and gold falcon skull with amber gems in the eye sockets, from the top of which rose a pair of polished white deer antlers. Dark-gold makeup surrounded her intense green eyes and extended down her cheeks in dagger-like streaks.

The great feathered wings emerging from the woman’s shoulders slowly folded around her torso where they transformed before Adam’s eyes into a cloak of orange and blue feathers that almost fell to the floor around her. Her soft green eyes investigated Adam’s as though they gazed into his soul. “Hello, Prince Adam,” she said in a soft yet firm voice. “I am the Sorceress of Grayskull. I have watched you grow into a man with much interest. And a fine man you have grown to be, little that you realise it.”

“You’re Zoar?” Adam asked, confused.

The Sorceress shook her head. “No. Not as such. And yet yes.” She smiled and it lit her intense features. “It is rather complicated metaphysics… The first Sorceress of Grayskull was a priestess of Zoar who became the guardian of this place and its secrets after the death of its king long ago. When she passed the mantle of Sorceress to her successor, so too did she pass the mantle of priestess. Since then, the Sorceress of Grayskull has always been connected to Zoar, able to channel the god and his powers and take the form of one of his avatars. Zoar speaks to me and, when I become the falcon, he speaks through me as his messenger in Eternia…”

“So, about this destiny…”

The Sorceress smiled. “I understand your scepticism, Prince Adam,” she replied softly. “And it is a difficult path that you are being asked to follow, but follow it you must for all our sakes, including your own.” She rested a gentle hand on his cheek. “I know this must be difficult for you to absorb. Your life up until now has been spared from pain and loss, and if it were within my power to do so I would spare you from it even still, but, alas, events are already in motion and there is no more time for any of us…”

“So Keldor has returned as Zoar said?” Man-at-Arms asked seriously.

“Something that was once Keldor has returned,” the Sorceress replied solemnly. “And I fear that I am to blame for it…”

“What do you mean?” the older man asked, his tone now worried.

“Come,” she replied. “I will show you what we face…”

The Sorceress turned from the throne and led them off to the side of the hall behind the towering stone figures of the Elders of Eternia. There, beneath the gallery, a great mirror hung within an alcove in the wall. “Behold the Mirror of Grayskull,” she told them. “Within its enchanted frame the Sorceresses of Grayskull are able to behold events long distant from themselves in space and time.” She waved a hand over the surface of the glass, which grew misty as the inner edge of the frame lit up in pale blue. Then, slowly, the mist dissipated to reveal an image.

The vista that lay before them was of an expansive flat plain of sand and rock and desert scrub. Beyond the plain rose a great dark mountain range that belched fire into the brooding sky. Serenia hung low behind the mountains, its swirling red and blue clouds partially obscured by the smoke and soot. “For those unacquainted with the sight,” the Sorceress said, her tone sombre, “before you are the Mountains of Fire that rise along the eastern edge of the Wastelands.” As they watched, a black stain appeared to spread from a pass between the mountains, spreading as it descended towards the plains and then breaking free of the pass as it spread further towards their viewpoint. “And there is the danger we face,” she continued, pointing to the black stain. As she pointed, the image surged forwards, closing in on the foothills of the mountains and the stain, which gradually became granulated and then fully resolved into a vast black army accompanied by hundreds of great machines of war. “The armies of Infinita march upon Eternia once again,” the Sorceress said ominously.

Amid the host hovered a great, black-armoured war barge. In shape it was like a great T, the cockpit at the end of the long fuselage and the crossbar at the rear forming a pair of hover stabilisers with rotating manned weapons pods embedded at either end. Between the cockpit and the rear was a large internal troop bay, and at the rear was a raised circular platform backed by a half-dome, within which sat a great black throne. On this throne sat a figure wrapped in a heavy black cloak, his face hidden in the shadows of a hood. “Keldor,” Man-at-Arms growled.

“Yes and no,” the Sorceress replied. “This creature was once the apprentice of Hordak, but what he is now I do not know.”

The hooded figure moved on his throne, his head leaning to one side as though puzzled. Then he seemed to look up directly at the four of them watching him through the mirror. The shadows in the hood hid his face, then two pinpricks of red light appeared within the hood, glowing brighter. A pale-blue hand emerged from the cloak, pointing a clawed index finger towards them. The image in the mirror broke up into surging black clouds that obscured everything. From within the glass a voice like cracking ice and dry leaves rang out: “I see you watching me, Sorceress, and believe me that a reckoning between us is coming, but for now you are merely a nuisance. Be gone!”

The mirror cracked and shattered with a flash of red energy. The Sorceress and Man-at-Arms turned away, using magic and armour to defend themselves from the flying glass. Between them, Orko dived between the mirror and Adam, inflating his robes around himself as a makeshift shield and allowing the shards and fragments to impact harmlessly against them rather than the prince.

When the last of the glass had stopped flying, Orko turned to look at the broken mirror, now just an empty frame with the stonework of the castle visible behind it. “Well, that was rude!” he exclaimed.

“Is everyone alright?” Man-at-Arms asked, lowering his arm away from his face and retracting the neck guard of his techno-armour. “Adam? Sorceress?”  
“I’m fine, thanks to Orko,” Adam answered.

“I am also unharmed,” the Sorceress said, her voice shaken. “That was… unexpected.”

“What happened?” Adam asked.

“Our enemy is more powerful than I feared,” the Sorceress responded. “Never before has the magic of the mirror been detected by the one being viewed. Whatever Keldor has become it is powerful. Perhaps even too powerful for me…” Her expression was troubled. “This is all my fault…” She looked away from them in shame.

“Sorceress,” Man-at-Arms said gently, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder, “we’ll need you now more than ever. Now is not the time for shame or recrimination. If Keldor has returned more powerful than ever then all of us will need to be ready to stand against him.”

She turned back to them, her expression hardening with determination. “You are, of course, correct, Man-at-Arms,” she said. “We must all be prepared.”

“Then I must return to Eternos and warn the king,” the older man said.

She nodded. “Yes. Randor must prepare for I have foreseen that Eternos will be under siege before this day is out. The majority of Keldor’s host marches on foot, which gives us adequate time to prepare for their full might to fall on us, but their leader is impatient for vengeance and intends to travel ahead with a smaller strike force and attack his old enemies. It is imperative that Eternos does not fall or all may be lost... The prince and the magician will remain here for now.” Without another word she waved her hand in the air and a shimmering portal of light appeared, within it clearly visible a courtyard of the palace of Eternos.

Man-at-Arms turned to the prince. “Stay here, Adam, and do as the Sorceress asks. She has long been an ally of Eternos and can be trusted without question. Do you understand?”

“No,” Adam replied. “I don’t understand any of this. But I’ll stay.”

The older man smiled, though his lips were tight and his face grim. “I know you will,” he said. “Good journey, Adam.”

“Good journey, Duncan,” the prince replied as his mentor turned and stepped through the shimmering portal, which disappeared the second he passed through it.  
“Now what?” Orko asked, looking from Adam to the Sorceress.

“Now I must tell you a story,” the Sorceress replied, walking back out into the vaulted throne room of Castle Grayskull. She took a few steps up the dais to the throne, and then turned and sat on the broad step.

“A story?” Adam asked incredulously. “You show us an army marching on Eternia and then want to spend time telling a story?” He marched out into the throne room angrily and stopped several paces from the woman, looking up at her with his chin set firmly. “Our lands are being invaded! We need to do something!”

“Do you think I do not feel as you do, Prince Adam?” the Sorceress asked sadly. “I love Eternia and its people more than you can know. But their safety and prosperity depend not simply on armies in the field but on the prophecy the Goddess of Eternia laid down over the body of your ancestor King Grayskull.”

“I’m tired of hearing about prophecies and destiny,” the prince said angrily. “My home is about to be attacked and you want me to sit and listen to a story?”

“Maybe we should hear her out, Adam,” Orko said. “Man-at-Arms seemed to think it was important that we do as she asks…”

Adam looked at the ephemeral magician with disbelief. “She wants to tell us a story, Orko!” he said angrily. “This isn’t bedtime and there’s no time for children’s stories!”

“Be silent!” the Sorceress shouted, her voice ringing with a power that Adam could never have suspected she might possess. He turned to her expecting to see an enraged goddess standing before him, but saw she remained as before. “I understand your frustrations,” she continued gently. “I assure you that I feel them also. But there is much to be said and too little time to say it. Eternos will fall if you are not ready to fight for it!”

“Me?” Adam asked. “Fight for Eternos? How? I’m no great warrior. I’m just a mostly useless prince.”

She smiled sadly. “You are too hard on yourself,” she said. “You see only your failings and not the potential that lies within you. You must recognise that potential now, Adam, for all our sakes.”

“She’s right,” Orko told him, resting a gloved hand on the prince’s shoulder. “You’re greater than you realise.”

“Sit with me, Prince Adam,” the Sorceress said, patting the step beside her. “This will be no bedtime story but history.”

Realising that there was little else that he could do anyway, with a resigned sigh he sat beside her. “Okay. Tell your story.” Orko also floated to the steps and seemed to pool down onto one a few lower than the Sorceress and Adam.

The Sorceress smiled. “You are no doubt aware of some of the legends that surround your ancestor King Grayskull,” she said. “That he rose to lead the free peoples of Eternia during the Great Horde Wars, constructed this castle with the help of giants, and that he died protecting our world from enslavement by the ancient warlord Hordak.”

Adam nodded. “I’ve heard those legends, yes.”

“Good,” she said. “What you may not know is that even though the versions told by bards and storytellers have been altered and embellished by the repeated telling, the basics of those legends are true. Roughly five thousand years ago, King Grayskull defeated the Horde here in this valley and banished their ruler, Hordak, into the dark dimension of Despondos where he remains imprisoned to this day. And so, for thousands of years Tellus remained free from the Horde until the Great Unrest brought them again to our world seeking their warlord’s freedom, only to be driven back to Etheria by your father and the Elders where they remain to this day. But that is only the briefest overview of the story…”

She raised a hand into the air and a man appeared. He was tall and strong with brown hair and eyes. In his face Adam saw echoes of his father in his younger days and of himself. He wore gold and black armour and a long red cape, and carried a golden staff topped by a shard of blue-green crystal within a four-lobed crown. “The story truly begins with D’Vann Grayskull’s twin brother Ro,” she told Adam. “D’Vann and Ro had been separated at birth by their mother, the then Queen of Eternos. Ro was raised in anonymity by the wizard Eldor, the two of them living as travelling hermits and helping the people of Eternia to fend off the depredations of the Horde where they could. In time, their example gave birth to a resistance and Ro was guided to this very valley where, hidden deep in the Crystal Caverns beneath it, he found the Power of Eternia secreted there and became the great battlemage He-Ro. With that power, the resistance became a rebellion and hope was kindled that the Horde could be defeated. But Ro was not destined to see victory as he later sacrificed himself in this valley to prevent Hordak from taking the Power of Eternia for himself.”

The image of Ro faded leaving only his staff. “Ro bequeathed his Staff of Power to his brother upon his death, but D’Vann was no mage but a warrior and general. The future king thus used the magic to reshape Ro’s gift into a weapon more befitting a warrior of his calibre: the Sword of Grayskull.” The image of the staff morphed in the air, transforming into a long two-handed steel sword with an ornate golden cross-guard. A large blue-green gemstone was embedded in the ricasso and extended veins of the same crystal up the triple fuller of the broad blade. A giant of a man appeared holding the sword above his head, blond and bearded with shaggy hair and braided forelocks, clad in polished silver armour, a golden crown and a fur collared red cape. His face resembled that of Ro, and, like Ro, Adam could see both himself and his father echoed there. “Proclaiming himself King Grayskull, D’Vann united Eternia beneath his banners and, with the support of his Etherian allies and the Masters of the Universe, freed Tellus from the Horde at the cost of his own life.”

King Grayskull faded from the image leaving only the sword. “After his death, the Goddess of Eternia appeared to Grayskull’s queen and councillors. Queen Veena was named as the first Sorceress of Grayskull, charged with defending this castle, its secrets, and the power that lay beneath it, and with continuing the lineage of Sorceress by seeking out a worthy successor when her own time came to an end. The councillors were charged with defending Eternia and its peoples from evil, and with ensuring the continuity of the royal house through the king’s infant son who would be raised in the safety of Eternos by the king’s cousin and steward. The king’s sword the Goddess divided into two equal and complementary swords which she hid away until champions would arise to use them.”

The image split into two and then faded away. “One half of the sword was hidden in Etheria and the other in Eternia. For thousands of years the swords would emerge when Eternia and Etheria needed champions. And need of champions there was much of in the years following King Grayskull’s death for evil would continue to plague Tellus for thousands of years before peace and prosperity returned.”

The Sorceress stood and walked to the foot of the dais before turning to look at Adam and Orko, her expression one of sadness. “Until a thousand years ago, the swords continued to find champions when darkness threatened. They became known as the Sword of Power and the Sword of Protection, and their champions the He-Man and the She-Ra. But a thousand years ago, even as Tellus emerged from the long aeons of darkness, the Sword of Protection was lost to history. Though the Sword of Power continued to find new champions in Eternia, Etheria was left without its defender and, in the end, that cost us dear when the Horde returned for there was not a She-Ra to protect the people of Etheria in their hour of greatest need.” She sighed mournfully. “We paid a high price for its loss, Prince Adam. One we continue to pay even now…”

“And no one knows where the sword is?” Orko asked.

The Sorceress shook her head. “No one,” she said sadly. “But there is still one half of the Sword of Grayskull awaiting a champion to claim it.”

“The Sword of Power,” said Orko.

She nodded. “There has not been a He-Man in Eternia since the Great Unrest, but with the threat we now face it is time for a new champion to arise to claim the sword.” Her gaze moved from Orko to the prince. “You are to be that champion, Prince Adam.”

Adam jumped with surprise. “Me?”

“Yes. That is the first part of the destiny that Zoar spoke of. You are to be Eternia’s new champion. It is a heavy burden, and one you must necessarily carry in secret for your enemies will seek to use your loved ones against you were they to learn of the truth.”

Adam laughed with disbelief. “Eternia’s champion? Me? I can name a dozen more deserving warriors without even trying.”

“No doubt you can, for Eternia has many great warriors,” the Sorceress replied, “but it is you who has been destined for this task. You alone can claim the Sword of Power and become Eternia’s new He-Man. You alone can lead us to victory over this new evil and end its threat.”

Adam’s thoughts raced as what she was saying sank in. For years he had thought he knew how his life was going to be: he would serve as an ambassador for his father’s court and then, one day, marry an eligible princess to cement the peace his father’s reign had won before assuming the throne and maintaining that peace. Now here he was in a castle he had thought was only a legend, listening to a Sorceress who spoke with the authority of a god, who was telling him that he was to become the champion of Eternia and lead them to victory over an invading army. His childhood dreams of being a great hero suddenly came into stark relief, only they were no longer fantasies of heroism and adulation but of death and pain and suffering. For a moment he saw himself in armour wielding the Sword of Power, its blade stained with the blood of Infinita and his face, hair and armour spattered with the same. It was not at all what the boy Adam had once imagined, and it horrified him.  
“No!” He did not realise immediately that the word had come from his mouth, but as he said it, he found himself in complete agreement with it. This was not what he wanted. He did not want that life. The fantasy may have appealed to him once, but the reality was a completely different thing. “I can’t!” He got to his feet in a hurry, his heart pounding. “I’m sorry,” he told the Sorceress, “but I can’t do this. I just can’t”

“Prince Adam,” she started to say, reaching out to him.

He pushed her hands away and backed away towards the door, shaking his head. “I’m sorry but I can’t do this,” he repeated, turning to the doors.

The Sorceress sighed sadly and nodded her head. With a wave of her hand the doors to the throne room swung open and Adam backed out into the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, unable to meet her eyes, then he turned and ran for the drawbridge.

The Sorceress turned to Orko, who was floating at the foot of the dais. “He is our only hope,” she told the magician. “But I cannot force him to accept such a burden against his will…”

Orko looked from him to her and back again, and then in a flutter of robes and tinkling of bells he rushed after the prince. “I’ll convince him to come back,” he called back to her. “He just needs a little time.”

“Time is one thing we have little of,” she called after him, before the throne room doors closed between them.

When Orko reached the drawbridge, it was already standing open, and he could see Adam running across the empty barren valley towards the wind-raider. Drawing his robes around him he summoned a little of his power and shot himself across the distance in a straight line, easily overtaking the prince who had been forced to take the longer route to cross the chasm. As the prince arrived at the wind-raider seconds later, panting, Orko placed himself between him and the craft. “Adam, what are you doing?” he asked gently.

“Didn’t you hear me?” the prince asked. “This is all too much to ask! I’m not a champion or a hero or a warrior. I’m just a lazy and directionless-”

“Stop that!” Orko snapped back at him. “Don’t pretend this is about you not being good enough! This is about you being afraid!”

Adam’s face darkened with anger. “Of course I’m afraid!” he shouted at the little magician. “Only an idiot wouldn’t be!”

“Adam, we should go back,” Orko told him. “If what the Sorceress says is true then all of Eternia depends on you accepting this burden. I know it seems unfair, but-”

“If you’re so bothered then you become the champion they need!” the prince interrupted. “I’m leaving this miserable place and never coming back!”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“It’s my mistake to make!” he shouted before climbing into the cabin of the wind-raider and starting the switches. “Now I’m going home where I belong! You can come with me or you can stay here!”

Orko’s robes deflated as he sighed. “Of course I’m coming,” he said, then muttered, “someone needs to talk some sense into you!” With that he floated into the cabin beside Adam as the prince pushed the button to close the canopy. As the canopy sealed over them, Adam opened the throttle on the vertical thrusters and the wind-raider shot up high into the air above the mountaintops before banking northwest towards Eternos and leaving the valley and Castle Grayskull far behind…


	3. Interlude: Halls of Wisdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skeletor's forces reach Eternia, and the Lord of Destruction reminisces on his past.

To the south of Eternia’s fertile Northern Plains lay the Sea of Rakash on whose north-eastern shores the beautiful Fields of Evermore spread inland to the southern expanses of the Endless Forest. Along its southern shores the arid Sands of Solitude spread inland to the Mountains of Eternity that bisected Eternia in a north-eastward arc from the Far Westlands on the coasts of the Eternian Ocean to the coasts of the Silent Sea north of Infinita in the Dark Hemisphere. Between the Fields of Evermore and the Sands of Solitude, the mountains passed close to the sea forming a natural barrier at the foot of which lay the dangerous Tar Swamps. To the north of the swamps, the foothills of the mountains came almost to the shore for many leagues north, their flanks cut into majestic terraces of olive groves, vineyards and orchards and the valleys and dells between them given over to herds of sheep and goats and other domesticated livestock. Where these foothills finally gave way to the coastal plains bordering the Fields of Evermore, the City of Wisdom had been constructed in ages past atop a great peninsula.

The city was the centre of learning for all Eternia, with great universities, academies, libraries and museums built along its broad streets and grand squares. As befitted its status as a seat of learning, the city had never bothered with defensive walls, mighty citadels or defensive bastions and the peoples of Eternia were free to come and go as need or pleasure dictated. Much of the population consisted of students, academics and philosophers and the atmosphere was abuzz with ideas and debates on all manner of topics, from the material to the esoteric. The buildings came down to the edge of the sea, where harbours, docks and mighty sea walls had been constructed for the great trade ships that sailed there. But by far the greatest sight the majestic city had to offer visitors was the incomprehensibly long Bridge of the Ancients that extended miles out across the sea using arts and sciences long lost to the Eternians to end at a steep-sided wooded island far offshore. The bridge was ancient even compared with the city, and the city had sprung up where the bridge reached the coast, people drawn there down the centuries by the island and its previous inhabitants, for on it had dwelled the immortal Elders of Eternia until the Great Unrest had seen them, and their unimaginably awe-inspiring Halls of Wisdom, vanish as though they had never existed…

Yet even absent the miraculous citadel the Elders had erected on their Isle of Wisdom, the landscape was one of immense beauty, though the sorcerer-warlord of Infinita, Skeletor, saw none of its aesthetic charm as he stood atop a ridge high above the terraced foothills and looked down upon the scene of pastoral idyll. When last he had stood in this place as Keldor, exile and warlord, the landscape had been scarred by war, but in his absence the pathetic Eternians had returned the land to fruitfulness. It please him that he would soon remind them of the futility of their peaceful lives and grind them back into the dirt as their new king.

As the majority of his armies had made the long march across the Wastelands to the east, he had taken his personal war barge ahead with a vanguard of troop carriers, land-shark tanks and rotons to see for himself what his servants had told him, and before him lay the evidence of his own vision: the city and its whitewashed houses and great marble buildings gleamed in the light of Hel-Amun, and the island beyond remained green and verdant – fed by natural freshwater springs that bubbled up to the surface on the island and had long made it a naturally defensible position – but the Halls of Wisdom that had risen from the island in majestic shimmering domes and towers were no more, and the woods had reclaimed the space they had vacated in the intervening years.

*****

Skeletor’s thoughts drifted back to Keldor’s last visit to the City of Wisdom twenty-one years earlier at the height of his uprising against the Eternians. The black armoured guardsmen of Snake Mountain had swarmed through the city, clashing with the green and orange garbed Eternian defenders in bloody melee combat. Screams and smoke had filled the air, punctuated by explosions as the Infinitan artillery bombarded the defensive positions of the city’s protectors.

Keldor strode through the chaos wielding a pair of wicked curved swords, their inner cutting edge serrated like the claws of a mantis and dripping with Eternian blood. His black cloak billowed behind him as he walked, revealing that the red bat-winged Horde emblem on his purple breastplate had been scraped through. His long raven-black hair was swept back under the rim of his war-helm, which he wore more for its psychological effects than any real need of protection: his magical wards were more than powerful enough to protect him from harm. The helmet was black with great coiled golden ram-horns emerging from the sides, but its most distinguishing feature was the polished white enamel faceplate forged in the shape of an eternally grinning human skull.

The great central avenue of the city stretched ahead of him, Eternian defenders crouched behind makeshift barricades along its length firing their blaster-bows at Keldor’s advancing forces. They were hopelessly outnumbered, and they knew it, but still they fought to their last breath.

“This is taking far too long,” he growled in frustration.

“You’ll get no argument from me, my lord,” replied Evil-Lyn from her place at his side, before firing a blast of magical energy from her staff at an Eternian soldier who had attempted to blindside them. Red lightning coursed around the soldier before he fell to the ground, dead and smoking. “I grow weary of these annoying insects…”

“They know that the longer they can hold out the more likely that reinforcements will break through from Eternos or Simbar,” he said. “They know they can’t win. Their goal is delay.”

“Then may I suggest we speed things up?” she asked with a sly smile.

“My thoughts precisely,” he replied, sheathing the swords at his waist. He raised his right hand above his head and called out with his magic. Seconds later the ram-headed havoc staff of Zalesia flew into his grip, its ruby eyes glowing with fire. As he lowered his arm, he glanced across to his companion. “Shall we, my dear?”

“Why not?” she replied with a dark chuckle, stepping up beside him. The two of them extended their staffs before them, touching the crystal orb and ram skull together. The two of them summoned their magic, channelling it through their staffs, both of which began to glow with purple-red energy that swirled and coalesced around them. A deep rumble sounded and the pebbles on the avenue began to vibrate up off the ground. The clouds swirled overhead, growing heavier and darker until they shrouded the sky with flashes of lightning.

The magical forces that erupted from the staffs when their spell was complete radiated up the avenue as far as the eye could see. The energy built for several long seconds, ripping away anything it its path – walls, barricades, soldiers – and vaporising everything nearby. As the blast dissipated, it left behind a scene of devastation. The maimed, dying and dead lay where they had been tossed by the force and cries of pain and suffering filled the air.

“Much better,” Keldor chuckled as he lowered his staff. “Don’t you agree, my dear?”

“Indeed,” she responded, surveying the carnage with an appreciative smile. “This is how I prefer my Eternians: crying for mercy in the dust.” She laughed viciously.

Keldor laughed with her, a sound made even more horrific by his grinning death’s head mask. “Advance!” he shouted, pointing the havoc staff ahead down the avenue. “Let nothing stand in your way!”

He and Evil-Lyn stood watching as their black-armoured troops swept down the avenue ahead of them, seeking out any survivors and putting their force-pikes and energy-blades to work to finish them. The cries of the dying slowly gave way to an eerie silence punctuated only by the crackle of flames and the rumble of thunder and artillery. After several moments, Evil-Lyn spoke. “It seems a pity to let our guardsmen have all the fun, don’t you think?”

“That it does,” he agreed. “Shall we, my dear?”

“After you, my lord,” she replied.

Keldor nodded his head graciously and with the havoc staff in one hand and a sword in the other he strode off down the avenue towards the great square at its far end, beyond which the Bridge of the Ancients extended out to the Isle of Wisdom and the seat of the Elders of Eternia whose power he intended to make his own. He was mostly unmolested, though from time to time an Eternian soldier would emerge from a side street to attack him or Evil-Lyn. The few who dared were repaid with a quick death, and neither of them had to resort to magic to do so. Keldor’s sword and the wickedly serrated curved knife that Evil-Lyn carried were weapons enough for two warriors who had been trained by the Horde, even if they had turned on their former masters to rule Infinita in their own right.

The Eternians mounted a final defence in the great square on the way to the Bridge of the Ancients. Barricades had been erected across the square leading to the bridge, behind which the Eternian soldiers were crouched, and four armoured attak-traks stood behind the barricades, their dual-barrelled dorsal turrets manned and armed. As Keldor’s forces poured into the square from multiple entry points, the Eternian blaster-bows opened fire. Black guards fell under the withering assault, but more succeeded in finding their own cover points around the square from which to return fire.

Keldor and Evil-Lyn entered the square behind the protection of a mystical force-field, the Eternian weapons fire impacting with harmless ripples off their shield. Their staffs glowed with mystical energy, shooting off energy blasts into the barricades and any defenders who came out from behind cover. With their arrival, the Eternian soldiers fell back behind their barricades but the attak-traks continued firing, all four focussing their lasers on the two magic users standing out in the open and their force-field.

“This grows wearisome,” Keldor muttered. “I tire of dealing with the Elders’ minions while out true enemy sits behind their walls and does nothing!” He raised his staff above his head, its eyes glowing bright red, and then slammed it down on the ground between his feet. Where it touched the ground, an arc of blood-red fire shot out in front of him, tearing up the cobblestones and ploughing a deep furrow into the square. The furrow spread out across the square, red flames flickering at its edges, and cut straight through one of the Eternian barricades.

Soldiers cried out in pain as the barricade exploded and their uniforms caught fire, and still the furrow continued beyond the barricade, hitting one of the attak-traks. The tank exploded, raining flaming debris across the square. Before the Eternians could react, Keldor slammed his staff into the ground a second time, sending a second furrow racing across the square to break another barricade and detonate a second attak-trak. With a vicious grin, he raised his staff above his head, spinning it in his hands before bringing it back down to the ground head-first. Where the ram skull impacted, the courtyard fractured, and a chasm opened. Fault lines spider-webbed out from the staff towards the remaining barricades, tearing the ground apart. Barricades, soldiers and attak-traks slipped and fell into the yawning rifts now spreading out across the square. More cries filled the air as smoke rose from the depths.

“Now if there are no further distractions,” Keldor crowed, “I’ll be off to see the wise and mighty Council of Elders. It’s long past time we discussed the future of Eternia…”

He strode across the ruined square, his magic allowing him to walk across the yawning chasms like they were not there, past the ruined barricades and attak-traks, the blood and the cries of the dying soldiers. It was all irrelevant to him. The Eternians had brought this war upon themselves. Or, more accurately, their leaders and their Elders had brought it on them.

He had fought for them.

Risked his life for them.

And their gratitude had been shown in denying him what had been rightfully his. His birth-right. A pretender sat on his throne and the Elders and all their wisdom had not only condoned it but enabled it. And now they and all Eternia were to pay the price for their betrayal.

He walked out to the beginning of the Bridge of the Ancients and looked out across the turbulent sea to the island beyond. His goal lay there. From among the lush green trees and brush that encircled the island above its steep cliffs rose the most impressive building on Tellus. The Halls of Wisdom had stood unmolested for thousands of years, their crystalline towers roaring impossibly high into the sky over the Sea of Rakash. The structure looked like it was made from pure white light, and indeed a great column of light rose from its perimeter into the heavens. Amid the towers rose great domes, stacked colonnades and cloisters, and other architectural wonders formed of white marble and opalescent crystal only possible due to magics and sciences long lost to all on Tellus but for perhaps the Elders themselves. Even to Keldor’s jaded cynicism, the citadel of the Elders of Eternia appeared like something out of a particularly splendid dream. And between him and it the bridge bristled with ancient defence systems as old and powerful as the Halls themselves: laser cannons stood atop pedestals rising from the water on either side of it at regular intervals, and between each pair of pedestals a glittering energy-field barred the way.

Evil-Lyn stepped up beside him and followed his gaze across to the towering citadel of the Elders. “After all this time,” she said as though echoing Keldor’s own thoughts, “our victory is almost within our grasp. We need only reach out and take it…”

“Indeed,” he replied. “The power and secrets of the Elders will soon be mine. And with them, this planet will follow… It seems almost a pity to destroy something so beautiful, though. Perhaps I should preserve the Halls of Wisdom as a museum.”

“A museum to what?” Evil-Lyn asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “The folly of a bunch of old fools who didn’t know when to die?” Her lip curled. “I’ve always found the Halls of Wisdom incredibly tacky. All that marble and crystal and the shining lights? So pretentious…”

Keldor chuckled. “Aren’t you impressed by the power of the Elders?” he asked.

“Their power impresses me, yes,” she replied. “Their architecture, though, leaves much to be desired. I prefer Zalesia.”

“That old ruin?” he asked, surprised.

She shrugged. “Each to their own, I suppose. At its height, the city of Zalesia would have been a sight to behold. The great citadel, the temples, the walls that kept the desert at bay…” Her tone had become almost wistful, as though for a moment she was imagining herself in the Ancient city, now lost to the Sands of Fire. “But the Halls should be destroyed,” she eventually continued. “If they are left standing, they will serve as much as a monument to our enemies as a museum to their failure. They will become a rallying point to those who wish to resist the new order of things.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” he replied, looking back to the great crystal spires, glowing even in the sunlight. “Perhaps they should be smashed and replaced with a monument to the new ruler of Tellus… Every Emperor needs a palace after all, and every god needs a temple to be worshipped in…”

“A god, Keldor?” she chuckled. “How your ambitions swell with power almost in your grasp…”

He laughed in response. “Why settle, my dear?” he asked.

“Why indeed,” she replied, a wicked glint in her eye. “You’ve come a long way from the young prince exiled from his kingdom whom I led into Infinita and his true destiny…”

“And you’ve come a long way from a Horde spy masquerading as a handmaiden to the queen,” he replied.

“Who know how far we can go with the power of the Elders at our fingertips…” she said, smiling evilly.

“At my fingertips, my dear,” he replied with a hint of menace in his voice. “Never mistake who is in charge here, my sweet witch…”

“Of course, my lord,” she replied, bowing her head, though her eyes narrowed with contained animosity. “A slip of the tongue. Nothing more.”

“I’m sure,” he replied, his tone darkly humorous. He reached up to his war-helm and touched the side over his ear, opening a communications channel. “This is Keldor. All rotons converge on the Bridge of the Ancients and take out those defence towers.”

At his word, the distant mosquito-buzzing of the Infinitan roton aircraft that had been scourging the City of Wisdom behind him began to grow louder and louder, and then moments later the sleek black disks with their spinning red perimeter blades shot overhead, their heat lasers firing at the defensive cannons. The disks buzzed like giant flies up and down the length of the bridge, taking out the lasers one by one. Dozens of rotons were shot down in the process, but more and more swarmed in until the defences were overwhelmed and the pedestals on which they stood ripped apart and smoking, bringing down the energy-fields that barred the crossing.

As the final defences were destroyed, the rotons swarmed away back to the city to continue raising it to the ground, and Keldor smiled beneath his mask. He turned to the black-armoured troops amassing behind him and Evil-Lyn and with a sweep of his arm and a thundered cry of, “onward to our final victory!” the guardsmen of Snake Mountain surged forwards: Humans, Gar, Mintorans, Gargons and dozens of other races enslaved to Keldor’s war machine charged forward onto the bridge and across towards the Halls of Wisdom at its far end.

“Shall we join them, my dear?” he asked Evil-Lyn over the thunder of boots and the clatter of techno-armour plate.

She bowed her head and gestured for him to lead the way. “After you, my lord.”

Keldor nodded his head graciously and began to cross, his havoc staff and one sword ready in his hands. The Halls of Wisdom had towered over the coastlines of the Sea of Rakash for longer than Eternians could remember. A monument to the Elders and their wisdom.

And soon he would bring it and its occupants down forever…

*****

Well, Skeletor thought as he looked out to the island from his vantage point above the landscape, he had almost been right. The Elders and their Halls of Wisdom had come crashing down forever as Keldor has intended, but not as he had expected. The city had been rebuilt and repaired in the years of his banishment, but the Halls were apparently no more. And from what he could see their dissolution had been so complete that not even ruins or foundations remained to suggest they had ever existed. The Elders had chosen to deny him their power by removing every trace of it beyond his reach. If he had still had lips he might have scowled, but his skull face remained as expressionless as ever, only the red glow of his empty sockets revealing his anger.

He turned to Evil-Lyn who stood at his side. “Where did they go?”

“As far as we’ve been able to discern, they sacrificed themselves and their power, unmaking everything they had ever built including themselves rather than have it be claimed by you,” she replied. “Where all that power now resides, we’ve been unable to discover. Not even the Eternians know what became of it…”

“Tri-Klops,” Skeletor said to the man on his other side, “do your eyes see anything others might have missed?”

The man to Skeletor’s left was tall and sinewy, with firm taught muscles honed by years of hard training beneath his bronze skin. He was dressed in a black leather loincloth hanging from a bronze belt on which hung a pair of sheathed swords. Black leather boots covered his feet beneath bronze greaves with a small blade tucked into the top of each. Bronze techno-armour bracers equipped with dart launchers enclosed his wrists above black leather gloves. He wore a green and bronze techno-armour breastplate with silver tubing that snaked up from his chest to connect to a mass of cybernetics erupting from the base of his skull. This cybernetic mass continued up the back of his skull before travelling under a green metal visor that encircled his head over his eyes. Around the perimeter of the visor were arranged three equidistant cybernetic eyes: one red, one green and one blue. Every few seconds the visor rotated with an audible whir and click, moving one or other of the eyes into place at the centre of his face.

“No, Lord Skeletor,” the man replied. “Whatever spectrum I try there is no trace of the Halls of Wisdom nor the power of the Elders.”

Skeletor stroked his bony chin, an affectation the bearded Keldor had once employed while thinking. “Interesting… And you say that fool Randor now rules all of Eternia?”

“Yes, my lord,” Evil-Lyn replied. “After you were banished and your armies scattered across Infinita, the rulers of Eternia appointed Randor their High King. Almost all of the kings and lords of Eternia now swear to abide by his rulings and rely on him for guidance where once they depended on the Elders.”

“Well then,” Skeletor chuckled, “if anyone knows what happened to the Elders and their power it will be him. I’m sure he’ll enjoy a visit from some old friends, don’t you?”

She laughed cruelly. “I’m certain he will.”

Skeletor turned his back on the pristine beauty of the city and its stunning surroundings. “First, though, let us remind the Eternians why they should fear Infinita by making an example of their ‘City of Wisdom’.”

Evil-Lyn smiled wickedly. “But the city is today only a place of learning. It has no defences to speak of. Much of the population consists of young students…”

“Then it is the perfect example,” he replied with a cackle. “The Eternians have grown weak and naïve in my absence. Now they will learn the price for relying on peace…” Without another word he began to stride down from the ridge away from the city to where his giant war barge sat hidden from sight of the city, surrounded by rotons. Black armoured troops stood guard around it with snipers hidden on the surrounding hilltops. Evil-Lyn and Tri-Klops followed him back to the ships where Trap-Jaw waited.

The cybernetic Gar spoke. “So, Skeletor, do you believe the evidence of your own, erm…”

“Eyes?” Skeletor chuckled, turning his empty sockets in Trap-Jaw’s direction. “Indeed. It appears that the poor students and academics of the City of Wisdom have been cruelly abandoned by our geriatric foes in their time of greatest need… Imagine the horror should something happen in their absence…” His maniacal cackle echoed around the surrounding hills.

“We attack then?” Trap-Jaw asked eagerly.

“Indeed, we do,” Skeletor replied, then called out loudly. “To your ships!”

As Skeletor and his three lieutenants boarded the war barge, the surrounding rotons buzzed to life, their counter-rotating serrated red perimeter blades spinning to a blur of motion before they rose into the air. Behind them the hover units of the war barge throbbed into life and the huge T shaped craft rose from the ground and began to travel down the valley behind the ridge towards the lowlands below. As it travelled, more Infinitan craft joined it from further afield: great hovering troop-transports, armoured land-shark tanks and fleet laser-bolt outliers.

As the armada formed up around the war barge and the rotons buzzed around overhead, an iris opened in the tail of the barge and the great half-domed throne of Skeletor rose from the interior compartment with the Lord of Destruction sitting astride it, the havoc staff in one hand. With his other hand he depressed a communicator on the arm of the throne, opening a channel to the other craft. “Forward! We shall teach the Eternians the price of their love for peace!”

The armada descended from the foothills towards the coastal plains leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. Flocks of sheep and herds of goats scattered panicked from their path, as did their herders. Those who were not quick enough were mowed down where they stood or shot by the gunners for sheer amusement. As the land flattened out, the edges of the city drew closer, defenceless against the approaching Infinitans. The few defenders of the City of Wisdom – many just cadets in the military academy – attempted to put up a defence, but their only aircraft were one-man sky-sleds armed with only a single laser cannon and their ground vehicles were mostly lightly armoured dragon-walkers, so the battle quickly turned into a rout with the city’s defenders falling back to street fighting as the superior Infinitan forces overwhelmed them.

Skeletor’s war barge entered the city as the rout reached its peak. Panicked civilians ran through the streets seeking shelter, adding to the chaos and only getting in the way of the few guards that were seeking to protect them from the hordes of black-armoured Infinitans that swarmed the city seeking bloodshed. Bodies littered the roads and pavements, and buildings burned under the aerial assault. The barge floated slowly up the main avenue that led towards the Bridge of the Ancients, a trio of land-sharks leading the way and clearing the path ahead. Others followed behind on the slim chance the Eternians might be able to mount a counterattack, though the battle was already dying down as Skeletor reached the great square before the bridge.

At the square, the barge came to a halt and its lateral hatches and ramps opened to unleash the elite guardsmen within. Skeletor exited behind them, flanked by Evil-Lyn, Tri-Klops, Trap-Jaw and Beast-Man, his eyes surveying the carnage around them. “Burn the city!” he ordered. “If any Eternian still lives within its bounds, correct the oversight. Bring all the bodies to the city squares and pile them high for their countrymen to see when reinforcements arrive. Their City of Wisdom shall be our message to all of Eternia.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Tri-Klops. “It shall be done.”

“Evil-Lyn, come with me,” the Lord of Destruction commanded as he headed towards the Bridge of the Ancients.

“As you wish,” she answered, following.

The bridge had been repaired since the last time Keldor had besieged the city seeking to claim the power of the Elders for himself. Its old surface had been covered by cobblestones, and the great defensive pedestals had been repaired or replaced, though they no longer served to guard the island and the Halls that had stood there. Instead, the pedestals were topped by towering statues of the Elders and obelisks carved with the Great Laws of Eternia that they had laid down over the course of their guardianship of Tellus. Skeletor and Evil-Lyn walked the length of the bridge alone, leaving the smoke and cries of the burning city behind them as they crossed to the forested Isle of Wisdom.

At the end of the bridge where once had risen the great golden doors of the Halls now stood a far less impressive marble archway, carved in remembrance to the Elders. Beyond the archway a large grassy area wide enough to accommodate hundreds at a time with room to spare extended out to the surrounding trees. At the far side of this undeveloped area had been raised a great memorial statue to the Elders carved of milky-blue crystal, the nine Elders arrayed in an arc, their expressions inscrutable.

“How pathetic!” Evil-Lyn said as she looked up at the statues. “Such weak-minded fools these Eternians are. Their Elders abandoned them in their hour of need and still they venerate them when they should curse their names.”

“They are small people,” Skeletor replied. “Born to follow those stronger than them. Born to serve and obey. For aeons they served and obeyed their Elders. Those who need to be led always venerate those who led them, however ineffective their leaders.”

“And now they follow Randor,” she laughed. “They must surely have been desperate when the Elders did their vanishing trick.”

“Do not underestimate Randor!” Skeletor snapped at her.

“But, my lord, he is only a man…”

“As was I, my dear,” he replied with a chuckle. “And look at me now.” His tone turned serious. “Even if the Elders are gone their power cannot have simply vanished. If Randor has managed to unite Eternia under his rule during my banishment, then we must allow for the possibility that the Elders have given their power over into his stewardship.”

“If Randor had such power then we would have heard of it,” she replied.

“If Randor had such power he would be loath to use it. It is not in his nature. That does not, however, mean that he does not have it hidden away somewhere. Or at least knows who does.”

“And if he does not?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Then, my dear,” he said menacingly, “I will tear Tellus and anyone who stands in my way apart until I find it. Beginning with Randor.”

He crossed beneath the arch from the bridge onto the island, feeling the grass beneath his bare feet. He walked across the clearing towards the crystal statue of his former foes, wondering at their decision to disappear rather than risk their power falling into his hands. Such vainglorious greed they displayed. And such cowardice. He could understand well the urge to never surrender power, but to simply vanish as though they and it had never existed rather than fight to keep it was simply something beyond his comprehension. They had chosen to frustrate his plans rather than face him. Such pathetic weakness. They had expended so much of their power fighting the Horde that he had posed a real threat to them in the end. He supposed he should be pleased but having been denied the boons of his victory it was instead a superficial triumph at best.

No, there would be no victory until their power was his to command. Nothing less would suffice.

He turned his gaze away from the statue and opened senses subtler than the normal five. As the world was transformed around him into currents of magical forces, he reached out for any taste of the power he had been denied. All that remained was a pale echo of the Elders, faded and spread into the overall magical ether of Tellus. In a few years he doubted it would be felt at all, and even now he doubted that any but the greatest sorcerers on the planet could feel its remnants. He searched the echo, testing its limits, seeking a trace of where the power had gone, but there was nothing. Not even the faintest ley line of current between the Isle of Wisdom and the current resting pace of the power of the Elders. The only magical connections emanating from the place headed down into the core of Tellus from whence even every bottom-tier magician could feel the world’s magic arose.

“Evil-Lyn, do you sense anything?” he asked, though he knew that if he did not it was inconceivable that she could.

“No, my lord,” she replied. “Only the faintest whisper of the Elders and their power remains here, but what became of it has been carefully hidden from our detection by a subtle yet powerful spell of concealment that I cannot dispel…”

“Bah!” he exclaimed, the frustration getting the better of him. “Damn the Elders and damn their accursed followers!” He turned back towards the bridge, his cloak billowing behind him. “Come, Evil-Lyn!” he commanded. “We will burn every city, town, village, castle and holdfast on this continent if necessary. We will grind every Eternian into the dust until their entire race is but a footnote in history. But one way or another we will find that power!”

“As you command, my lord,” she replied. She took one last look around the island, both with her eyes and with her subtler senses, and then with a wry smile curling her lips she followed after Skeletor back to the burning ruins of the City of Wisdom.


	4. The Battle of Eternos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Eternians prepare for war as the forces of Infinita, led by Skeletor, march deeper into the kingdom.
> 
> But Skeletor may prove too much for all that the Eternians can throw against him...

Queen Marlena stood in her chambers as a page helped her into her armour. She had swapped her gown for a simple green tunic and half-skirt trimmed with gold over a grey techno-armour base-layer. Over this the page was currently fastening a gold and red breastplate and shoulder armour, and she had swapped her crown for a golden battle-tiara. It had been several hours since Man-at-Arms had appeared in the throne room with news that an Infinitan army marched on Eternia and, while her husband and his chief techsmith had gone immediately to the guardhouse to begin preparations, she had ensured her ladies in waiting and the other civilians of Eternos were safely retired to the vaults beneath the palace where they could wait out the coming attack. The page fastened her sword belt at her waist, and she felt the sheathed blade weigh heavy on her hip. It had been many years since she had needed to arm herself and it was not a welcome reoccurrence.

“There you are, your majesty,” the young page said as she stepped away and bowed.

“Thank you,” Marlena replied. “Now report to the guardhouse for orders.”

The girl nodded before hurrying from the room. Marlena watched her go with an ache in her soul: she was so young to be facing such horrors. Much too young, if there were any justice in the universe, but the universe was a neutral and indifferent arbiter on such matters. The Eternians believed that all things existed in balance, even good and evil, and that injustice was sadly unavoidable in a world where justice was sought. On Earth things had been seen differently – injustice was an aberration that justice existed to correct – but she was no longer certain which view was correct. Certainly, injustice endured no matter how hard people tried to fight it, and evil always seemed to raise its head no matter how much goodness there was in the world.

And here she was on the verge of facing evil again.

She was not afraid of what was to come: it was, after all, not the first time that she had faced evil. She had arrived on Tellus during its struggle against a far greater evil and the Eternians had triumphed. What pained her was the innocence that would be destroyed in what was to come. The lives lost and families broken. She had hoped never to see another war, but hope was too often fleeting. Still, it was all she had now. Straightening her back and squaring her shoulders she took a long steadying breath before she strode out of the room and onto whatever lay ahead of her.

She headed directly for the council chambers. The halls and corridors of the palace bustled with activity: green and orange armoured guards and soldiers stood watch carrying force-pikes and blaster-bows, while orange and red clad fire-fighters stood ready with tanks and hoses to tackle the blazes that the attack would doubtless bring, and orange and blue clad pages hurried about carrying messages too sensitive to transmit over the intercoms. Everywhere preparations for battle were being made, and Marlena found herself hoping this did not become a prolonged siege. With Avion and Andreenos on the verge of conflict that would mean the only reinforcements would have to come from further afield, and that could take days or weeks assuming the Infinitans were not blockading the roads and passes into Eternos. She had experienced her share of sieges during the Great Unrest and had no desire to live through another.

Her journey through the palace’s main keep took her up to the council chambers beneath the apex of the great dome. Though more recently used to maintain the peace across Eternia, it had also been the war room during the Great Unrest, and she expected to find her husband there coordinating the preparations. As she reached the top of the stairs that entered the chamber, she found both the king and his Man-at-Arms standing at the central table. Her husband had swapped his stately robes for red and gold battle armour under a fur-trimmed blue cape and wore a battle sceptre and sword at his hips. A golden crowned helmet sat on the table beside him.

“Hello, my dear,” he said as he noticed her and met her in a loving embrace.

“Your majesty,” Duncan said, nodding his head.

“Are the preparations going well?” she asked, eager to get down to business.

“Yes, your majesty,” Duncan replied. “The guard and fire brigade are deployed around the palace. Our scouts have gone out to monitor the routes from the southeast and notify us when the enemy is spotted. All the palace’s defences are on standby.”

“And you’re sure that Adam is safe?”

“I left him and Orko in the safekeeping of the Sorceress of Grayskull,” Duncan replied.

“Yes,” Randor said with a tone of puzzlement. “And when this is done, I expect she will reveal her reasons for calling him to Grayskull…”

“You know the Sorceress as well as I, sire,” Duncan replied. “Her reasons may not be clear to the rest of us, but she does nought without them. Who can fathom the will of Zoar?”

“Indeed,” Randor said, and his tone held a clear trace of anger. “Though I would have hoped that Zoar would at least have had the courtesy to inform his parents before sending our son halfway to Snake Mountain!”

Duncan began to speak. “Sire, had there been the time I would of course-”

“I’m sure you would have, Duncan,” Marlena interjected to divert and cool her husband’s anger. “I suppose the king and I have simply become somewhat unaccustomed to the strange ways of gods and magicians these past few years…”

“Yes,” Randor agreed. “I bear no ill will towards you, Duncan. I’m sure you did what you believed was correct in the circumstances.”

“I did, sire.”

Marlena again spoke before the king: “Is everyone accounted for then?”

Duncan seemed to flinch a little at the question. “Unfortunately not, your majesty,” he said.

“Princess Glimmer and Teela are unaccounted for,” Randor said, troubled. “Chef Hendel says they took food for a picnic several hours ago and the stable-master says the two of them took horses out through the main gates soon after.”

“We must find them!” Marlena said. “If anything should happen to either of them…”

“I ordered scouts out to find them as soon as it became clear that they had left the palace,” Duncan told her.

“I’m sure they’ll return safely in plenty of time,” Randor reassured his wife. “And both of them are capable of handling themselves if they do encounter any trouble.”

Marlena stood still as a statue, her face even paler than usual. “Do we know how far away the Infinitan army is?” she asked.

“The main host still lies beyond the Majestic Mountains,” Duncan said, “but the Sorceress said that an advance force would attack Eternos before the end of the day.”

“Have we received any reports from further south?”

“Sadly, yes,” Randor said. “We received word an hour ago that the City of Wisdom has been attacked and burned to the ground.”

“Were there many casualties?” Marlena asked, horrified.

“Too many,” Duncan replied angrily. “What kind of monster attacks peaceful students and scholars?”

“What can we do to help them?” she asked.

“I’m afraid it’s too late to do much of anything, my dear,” Randor sighed sadly. “The attack was over before word reached us. I’ve ordered soldiers and healers be despatched from Drisdos and Sand’s End to help the survivors and guard against the arrival of the main host. I’ve also placed all our military posts on high alert should they decide to attack anywhere else, but my guess is we are their next target.”

“What makes you so sure?” Marlena asked.

“Keldor was obsessed with gaining the power of the Elders at the end,” her husband replied. “As the Elders ruled from the City of Wisdom, the attack there makes strategic sense. But as the Elders have left us, our enemy will come for us to find out where they went.”

“But we don’t know where they went,” said Marlena.

“Do you think Keldor will believe our ignorance?” Randor asked her. “It’s no secret that I was appointed High King after their disappearance. That news will have reached Infinita, and so Keldor will know of it. He may even suspect that the power of the Elders resides somewhere in the palace…”

“How did he even return?” Marlena asked. “Didn’t the Sorceress banish him to the Beyond?”

“She did,” Duncan confirmed.

“It’s a question that I’ve been asking myself, too,” Randor said, stroking his beard.

“I’m sure we’ll learn the answer soon enough.”

Before anyone could reply, one of the controls on the edge of the table near the king began to flash and beep. Randor pressed it and a holographic image of one of the royal scouts shimmered into existence above the table. “Your majesty, this is Trooper Dian reporting in from the foothills of the Eternian Highlands.”

“Report, trooper,” the king replied.

She nodded. “The enemy has been spotted crossing the Fields of Evermore to the east. I count one war barge accompanied by five squadrons of land-sharks, six troop carriers and at least two squadrons of rotons.”

“Any siege engines?” Duncan asked.

“Negative,” she replied.

“That’s something, at least,” the Man-at-Arms said with a half-sigh.

“Indeed,” said the king before turning his attention back to the scout. “How long do you think before they reach the palace?”

“I’d say at their rate of travel they’ll be at the walls within an hour, sire.”

“Thank you, trooper,” the king said. “Remain where you are until they pass and then try to make your way back to the palace without being seen. We’ll need all the fighters we can get soon…”

“Yes, sire,” the scout replied. “Goddess be with you.”

“And with you,” the king replied. “Good journey.”

The scout nodded and signed off, her holographic image shattering into glittering fragments that faded to nothing.

For several long moments, the council chamber was deathly quiet, its three occupants alone with their thoughts of what was to come. Eventually, the king broke the silence: “An hour,” he said quietly. “It feels like no time at all.”

“Time enough,” Duncan replied. “We should recall the scouts. As you said, sire, we’ll need all the fighters we can get.”

Randor nodded. “Send the recall order. Tell them to avoid the main gates and return through the north tunnel.”

Duncan nodded and tapped the recall order into his console on the table.

As the king and his Man-at-Arms continued preparations, Marlena drifted away from the table. There was not much she could do now and with nothing to occupy her she found herself wondering where Glimmer and Teela could be. She hoped that the scouts would find them soon and return them to the safety of the palace. She dreaded to think that the Infinitan forces might find them first….

*****

Even as the royal palace prepared itself for the coming attack, the farmlands around Lake Eternos remained quiet and peaceful. Though messengers had gone out to the villages and farmsteads to warn the small folk of the danger, many still chose to wait out the conflict hidden in root cellars and vaults while others remained blissfully unaware of what lay ahead and continued to tend their fields, orchards and vineyards in ignorance of the impending threat. The sun continued to shine in the clear blue sky, the breeze remained warm and gentle, and the clear waters of Lake Eternos glistened with reflected sunlight beneath the falls and their misty spray.  
Teela and Glimmer sat in a clearing amid a grove of trees not far from the falls on the lake’s eastern edge. Their horses grazed peacefully nearby as the two women enjoyed the weather. Between them was laid out the picnic that they had taken from the palace kitchens – sandwiches, cakes and candied fruits to be washed down with sweet wine flavoured with berries – and the two of them picked at the fare as they relaxed.

“Thank you for suggesting this,” Glimmer said with a happy smile. “I know you had studying to do for your captain’s exams and I really appreciate you taking time out to spend the afternoon brightening my mood.”

“Don’t be silly,” Teela replied. “No thanks are needed. It’s what friends do.”

Glimmer nodded. “I know, but it’s appreciated anyway.” The princess lay back in the soft grass and sighed contentedly. “I wish every day could be like this.”

“You and me both,” said Teela. “It would be nice not to have so much responsibility resting on our shoulders: me a future captain of the Guard and you the future leader of the Great Rebellion. Sometimes I envy Adam…”

Glimmer raised herself on one elbow and gave her friend a look of quizzical amusement. “Fibber! You thrive on responsibility!”

Teela thought about it a moment and then laughed. “You’re probably right.”

“Oh, I know I’m right,” Glimmer teased her gently. “If you could spend all day doing whatever you wanted with no one expecting anything from you then you’d be completely miserable!”

Teela laughed again. “Okay, I admit it…”

“Me on the other hand,” Glimmer said, “as much as I accept my future obligations to my people, I do sometimes wish that it were someone else’s burden to take on and not mine. If Etheria were free and I could just find a handsome prince to sweep me off my feet, then I’d be completely content with a life free of conflict and strife…”

“A little conflict is good though,” Teela mused. “At least it keeps you from getting bored.”

Glimmer shook her head. “Oh no. Peace and tranquillity would be enough for me. Give me joy and happiness any day.”

Teela shook her head. “Not for me. I need a little excitement.”

The princess shrugged. “Well life would be boring if we were all the same. Some of us have to be reckless thrill-seekers.” She grinned playfully.

“So, I’m a reckless thrill-seeker?” Teela asked with a smirk.

“You can be a little hot-headed sometimes…”

Teela laughed. “But it gets things done, doesn’t it?”

Glimmer shrugged. “So does calm debate.”

“I suppose so,” Teela replied with a shrug. “It takes longer to get to the same point though…”

“But everyone gets there on their own terms.”

Teela got to her feet and waved the suggestion away dismissively. “As long as everyone gets there what does it matter? Sometimes there isn’t the time for discussion and things need to be done straight away.”

Glimmer shrugged and lay back again. “I guess so,” she said noncommittally.

Teela shook her head with a wry smile, knowing that the princess had nothing more to add. She turned and crossed to the horses. Her golden stallion, Charger, raised his head at her approach, pawing the ground with one front hoof. She scratched him behind the ears and checked he was tied securely to the tree, and then checked on Glimmer’s red mare.

She was about to return to Glimmer when a rumbling reached her ears, accompanied by grinding and clanking noises. She frowned, puzzled, wondering who would be operating machinery in the area. Though the trees were generally cut back in winter for firewood by local villagers, it was the height of summer. “I won’t be a moment,” she called to Glimmer and headed for the edge of the trees and the farmland beyond.

In the distance she could see a cloud of dust rising above the horizon. Reaching to her belt she removed a small electronic device and pressed a control on its surface, causing the outer casing to open and unfurl a small electronic range-viewer. She lifted it to her eyes and focussed in on the area under the expanding dust cloud. Several vehicles came into focus: a large black hover barge accompanied by several smaller armoured vehicles, some tracked and others hovering on anti-gravity units. Movement in the air above them drew her attention to several disk-shaped craft that buzzed overhead like angry bees, darting through the cloud and switching direction suddenly and unpredictably. Teela had never seen craft like them herself, but she recognised them from her studies: the Infinitans had used such vehicles during the Great Unrest. The buzzing disks were called rotons and the tracked vehicles with their pronounced prows and side cannons were land-shark tanks.  
The barge appeared large enough to hold hundreds of soldiers, and the six smaller hovercraft that surrounded it could probably each hold about the same number again.

Teela felt her blood run cold. Infinitan forces had not been seen in Eternia for over two decades, and if this were a diplomatic envoy presenting a show of strength to the High King, she would have known about it as a member of the palace guard. That could only mean they intended to attack, and the only military target in the area was the palace itself. At their rate of travel, they would reach the trees in a matter of minutes and, not long after, the palace itself. Taking the viewer from her eyes she glanced back over her shoulder, imagining Glimmer still lying completely unaware in the clearing as the strike force approached.

Suddenly she wished they had left the palace on road-rippers instead of horseback. There was no way the two horses could outdistance the Infinitans on a dash for the palace – especially if they were spotted and those rotons decided to fly ahead to use them as target practice – but if they attempted to hide here in the grove there was no guarantee they would not be found by any outriders accompanying the larger force. It did not matter so much if she herself was found, but the future of Etheria might rest on Glimmer so it was imperative she did not end up in an Infinitan dungeon. If the Infinitans turned her over to the Horde, then the fight to liberate Etheria would be lost…

Putting away the range-viewer on her belt she turned back into the woods and Glimmer. “We need to go now!” she said urgently as she entered the clearing.

Glimmer sat up and gave her a puzzled look. “What is it?”

“There’s an Infinitan strike force heading this way.”

“What!?” Glimmer asked, jumping to her feet in surprise. “How far away?”

“I’d say they’ll be on top of us in ten minutes. We need to get back to the palace.”

“Can the horses outrun them?” Glimmer asked, but from Teela’s expression she already knew the answer was no. “What then?” she asked. “I could try teleporting us back to the palace…?”

“Could you get both of us that far?” Teela asked.

“I don’t know,” the princess replied. “I’ve never tried teleporting anything near that distance.”

Teela frowned as she thought through their options. “If we stay here then their outriders will find us anyway,” she said. “We’ll have to do our best on the horses.” She was already checking the straps on Charger’s saddle as she spoke. “Leave the packs. The weight will just slow us down.”

“If we can just get closer to the palace, I could teleport us both,” Glimmer offered as she checked the tack on her mare. “We just need to outrun them long enough…”

“Then we’d better go now,” Teela said, leaping into the saddle. “The quicker we set off the more of a head start we get.”

Glimmer nodded and climbed onto her mare, and then the two of them urged their horses back towards the palace. As they broke the cover of the trees, Teela glanced back to the rising dust of the Infinitan advance and felt her skin prickle at how close they seemed, then she urged Charger into a gallop towards the palace, Glimmer’s mare keeping pace at their side. “Ride like the wind,” Teela called out to Glimmer.

“Oh, don’t worry,” the younger woman called back. “I fully intend to!”

They had scarcely been out in the open for more than a few seconds when the growl of engines sounded on their heels. Teela glanced back over her shoulder to see three armoured red trikes streaking across the fields towards them. They were low-slung; their black armoured riders sprawled out on their stomachs with their heads and shoulders just visible above the bestial prows. On either side of their prows was attached a blaster cannon with a firing arc ahead of each trike. “Laser-bolts!” she shouted out as a warning to Glimmer.

Glimmer turned and glanced back to see their pursuers before urging her mare to go faster, but as fast as their horses could go the trikes were faster still and the distance closed steadily. After a few minutes, blaster fire began to sear the air around the galloping horses and their riders, barely missing their fleeing targets. Teela and Glimmer urged their steeds to even greater swiftness, using the reins to take the beasts into a meandering zigzag retreat in their efforts to prevent the blaster fire from zeroing in on target, and hugging their bodies low to the beasts’ backs to provide a smaller target for the blasters. But the evasive manoeuvres, however necessary, slowed them and gave the laser-bolts the opportunity to draw even closer.

Teela could feel the strain she was putting Charger under as the stallion’s flanks grew hot and damp and flecks of foam began to escape from his lips. “I’m sorry, boy,” she whispered, stroking his shoulder. “I know you can’t do this much longer…”

She glanced to her side to find Glimmer’s mare similarly tiring. “The horses won’t last much longer,” she called to the younger girl. “How much further before you’ll be close enough to teleport us?”

“We aren’t going to make it!” Glimmer responded.

Teela cursed aloud. “I wish I’d brought a weapon!”

Glimmer’s expression darkened as Teela’s words reached her, and then hardened. “You did!” she called back.

Before Teela could say anything further, the princess raised herself up in her saddle and dropped the reins. The blaster fire kept the animal galloping in panic but no longer under Glimmer’s direction and Teela worried her friend might be thrown. Before she could raise her concerns, though, Glimmer twisted in her saddle and pointed an outstretched arm behind her, hand open with the fingers cupped. A glowing purple orb shimmered into existence cupped in the hand before shooting out a ray of bright purple-pink light towards one of the pursuing vehicles.

The blast struck the lead laser-bolt as it sped across a small rise in the landscape and its momentum sent it momentarily airborne. It punched a hole through the armoured prow of the trike as though struck by a heavy object, and the sudden change in differential momentum between the head and tail of the vehicle caused it to flip up and over in the air. Its rider was tossed from it as it toppled through the air to crash smoking into the grass. Its two counterparts swerved and slowed to avoid the crash, giving the horses and their rider’s a moment’s respite from the pursuit.

Glimmer turned back to Teela with a grim smile on her face, taking the reins of her mare once again to steady herself. Drawing herself close to the horse’s back she again urged it forward to an even swifter gallop alongside Charger, though both women knew that their horses would have to stop soon.

Blaster fire again seared the air and ground around them as the remaining laser-bolts resumed their pursuit. Up ahead, a larger stand of trees lay beside their retreat to the palace. “Head for the trees,” Teela called out to her friend as she pulled on the reins to turn Charger towards the small wood. “They’ll be at a disadvantage among the trees.” Beside her, Glimmer turned her mare in the same direction and the two horses charged across the landscape as fast as they could with the two remaining trikes in pursuit.

All Teela could hear as the trees drew closer was the pounding of their horses’ hooves, the growl of laser-bolt engines and the thumping of her own blood in her ears, interspersed with the shrieks of blaster fire. They were only metres from the treeline when a blaster bolt seared past her left ear, close enough that she could feel the heat and smell the singing of her hair, followed moments later by the sound of splintering wood as the bolt impacted into one of the nearest trees, splitting the trunk. And then the trees were around her and she took Charger on a circuitous dance amid the trunks followed closely by Glimmer and her mare.

The laser-bolts slowed as they approached the treeline, unable to manoeuvre as effectively among the trunks and undergrowth as the two horses. For a few seconds they lingered at the entrance to the trees before splitting up to encircle the woods and pick up the pursuit on the other side. At the same time, several of the rotons buzzing around the approaching Infinitan strike force broke formation and accelerated towards the woods, the whining buzz of their engines growing louder as they neared.

Once she was sure the trees were providing enough cover from the blasters of their pursuers, Teela reined Charger in to give the stallion time to rest. Glimmer reined in her mare beside her. “What now?” the princess asked.

“Do you think you could teleport us from here?” Teela asked.

Glimmer frowned as she thought about it. “It would be a strain,” she replied after several moments. “I wouldn’t like to risk it unless there was no other choice.”

“The laser-bolts can’t enter the trees,” Teela told her as she dismounted. “There’s not enough room to turn and too much undergrowth. We have a bit of time to catch our breath.

They’ll be expecting us to emerge on the other side of the wood.”

“So, we probably shouldn’t do that,” Glimmer finished her thought for her.

Teela smiled. “Probably not.”

“I don’t think the horses will make it as far as the palace,” Glimmer said as she slid out of her saddle. “They’re exhausted.”

“I don’t think they’d make it either,” Teela agreed, eyeing Charger with concern. “If we try to push them any further it might kill them.”

“If the laser-bolts can’t come in here then perhaps we should wait them out…?”

Teela shook her head. “No, we-” She stopped and held up her hand for Glimmer to be quiet, listening. An insistent whining buzz was audible and growing louder. “Oh no!”

“What is it?”

“Rotons,” Teela replied. “The outriders must have contacted their commander for reinforcements… We might have stood a chance against the laser-bolts but not against rotons.”

“What do we do?” asked Glimmer.

“There’s only one thing we can do now. Fight our way out.”

“But you don’t have a weapon!” Glimmer protested.

Teela glanced around her at the surrounding trees, looking for something to use as a makeshift weapon before her eyes settled on a relatively straight branch hanging down from one of the trees. It was almost as long as she was tall. “Here,” she said to Glimmer, “give me a hand with this!” She crossed to the branch, leapt up to grab it and pulled it down with her weight. As the branch pulled taut Glimmer summoned her magic and fired a small blast of energy at the point where the branch met the trunk of the tree, shearing it free. Teela dropped with it in her hand, landing in a perfectly balanced crouch before straightening up. She surveyed the branch in her hands, clearing away any twigs, leaves and buds, and then tested its strength and flexibility. “It’ll have to do,” she muttered to herself.

“So, what’s the plan?” Glimmer asked.

Before Teela could respond, several black shadows flashed by overhead – rotons – the whining buzz of their engine turbines rising to a roaring howl as they buzzed the treetops, sheering off twigs and leaves that showered down to the ground. The horses pawed the ground anxiously with nervous whinnies. The two women hushed and calmed them as best they could, but it was only a matter of time before the rotons returned to attempt to flush them out of the trees.

“If we stay in here, they’ll just burn the wood down to get us out,” Teela said once the sound of the rotons had faded enough to hear herself. “Those rotons are equipped with incendiary lasers.”

“But what chance do we stand out in the open? The horses are exhausted, and we can’t outrun those laser-bolts on foot.”

“It doesn’t really matter about the laser-bolts now,” Teela replied. “Even with the horses we couldn’t outrun those rotons.”

“I expect you have a plan, though…?”

“Don’t I always?” Teela asked with a wry grin. She turned to Charger and stroked his neck. “Okay, boy, I need you and your friend to be our distraction…”

A few minutes later, Charger darted out from among the trees followed by Glimmer’s mare, galloping out across the fields at right angles to the palace. The two laser-bolt riders spotted the horses emerge but were too far to see that neither horse had a rider so shot off in pursuit. Once the trikes were committed to their pursuit, Teela and Glimmer burst out of the trees on the far side where the two Infinitan riders could not see them and ran for the palace.

They had not gone far when the buzz of a roton sounded behind them, the noise growing louder as it bore down on them. At the last second, they skidded to a halt and dove to either side as the roton roared past, low to the ground, the spinning blades at just the right height to have left the two women absent their heads. As the roton continued climbing back into the sky, Teela turned to Glimmer from her crouched position and nodded. The princess returned the nod and waved a glowing hand in the air between the two of them. A purple glow surrounded Teela and then she vanished in a pink flash.

Teela reappeared crouched atop the fuselage of the roton behind its canopy as it climbed skyward, her hair whipped behind her by the slipstream as she struggled to get a grip on the craft. As the rush of air threatened to throw her off to fall to her death, she slowly edged her way around the disk towards the external control panel for the canopy, using the ornately forged hull for purchase. The gunner saw her first and she saw the Gar warrior shout something to the pilot, though his words were lost in the howl of the air rushing past. The pilot – a horned Mintoran – glanced back over his shoulder a moment before turning back to the roton’s flight controls. The disk bucked and rocked as he tried to dislodge her, but by sheer force of will Teela managed to cling on and reach for the canopy controls.

She pushed the button to open the canopy and it began to slide open. The gunner turned to her, fumbling at his belt for his blaster, but before he could reach it, she twisted her body around like a gymnast and kicked him hard in the side of the head. The impact whipped his head to the side, dazing him long enough to reach into the cockpit and press the ejector seat. As she drew back from the edge of the cockpit, a timer on the gunner’s controls began to count down before his seat was launched out of the roton and rocketed skyward, blossoming a parachute as it began to fall.

Teela did not hang around to judge the gunner’s fate, but instead slid into the empty space he had just vacated and used her makeshift staff to jab at the panicked pilot’s ejector button. As the angry Mintoran followed his gunner out into the open sky, Teela climbed forward inside the now vacant cockpit towards the flight controls. She grabbed the joystick and turned the craft back towards where she had left Glimmer, seeing the princess crouched in the grass firing blast after blast of magic at a pair of rotons bearing down on her. But, bigger and more heavily armoured than the laser-bolts had been, the aircraft were largely unfazed by her defensive attacks.

Teela opened the throttle of her captured roton to full and turned it on an intercept course for the two rotons attacking Glimmer. As she entered weapons range, she opened fire with the craft’s twin forward incendiary lasers, hot red laser beams lancing out to strike the first of the other craft dead centre on its cockpit. She saw the canopy shatter and the cockpit engulfed in flames, and then the roton spiralled out of control and ploughed into the ground before exploding.

The second roton broke off its attack on Glimmer, its lasers flashing red beams of heat towards Teela as it banked up to engage her. Red warning lights flashed across the controls of her captured roton as the rays hit the fuselage and scoured blackened rents into the belly on the port side. Her roton jerked and bucked and she fought against the controls to keep it on course, targeting her attacker and loosing heat rays across the sky towards it.

Her beams hit the other roton in the centre of the demonic visage between its cockpit and the spinning perimeter blades, scorching and melting the armoured fuselage. She fired again, tracing the lasers across the left side of the enemy craft and into the spinning blades. The blades exploded, initiating a chain reaction around the perimeter of the craft as the damaged mechanism ripped itself apart in a series of explosions. The disk plunged to the ground, flames erupting from around its edge and crashed in a shower of dirt and rocks and shards of metal.

With the immediate threat neutralised, Teela turned her roton back towards Glimmer to pick her up. As she descended towards her, she saw Glimmer look up with a grim smile. For a second she was outlined in purple energy and then vanished in a flash of pink. Moments later the roton jerked as its weight increased and she glanced back to find the princess crouched behind her in the cockpit.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Glimmer nodded. “Thanks to you. That was amazing!”

“Needs must,” Teela replied with a shrug before directing the roton to climb skyward again and bank around towards the palace. “Now if our luck just holds out a few for more min-”

As if she had tempted fate, the roton suddenly jerked and bucked as it was hit. More red lights flashed, and the engine sound changed from its giant-mosquito buzz to a choking cough. She glanced around to see three new rotons bearing down on them from above, their lasers already locked on target. “Hold on!” she warned Glimmer as she tugged the joystick to change course. The lasers of their new pursuers lanced past the cockpit canopy, barely missing them. The roton responded sluggishly to her commands, clearly damaged by the last hit, and she struggled to get it to perform the manoeuvres she wanted. Evading several more shots, more by luck than anything else, she glanced back to Glimmer. “I don’t think we’re going to make it as far as the palace. I can’t outmanoeuvre them in this. We’ve taken too much damage.”

“What can I do?” the other woman replied.

“Get ready to teleport us out when I give the word,” she replied, directing the damaged roton on a direct course for the palace, opening the throttle as far as she could. The roton jerked and spasmed as they soared towards the palace, their pursuers not far behind. Lasers seared the air around them and scorched glancing hits across the fuselage as the palace grew larger ahead of them.

Suddenly the roton jerked again as the pursuit scored a direct hit on the tail. Teela fought against the craft as warning alarms went off in the cockpit. For a few brief seconds it seemed as though the roton might flip over and tumble out of control into the ground, but with a shout of defiance Teela managed to level it out again, though the engines sputtered and somewhere behind the cockpit she heard metal grinding and tearing. Smoke began to fill the cockpit and she realised that the roton was no longer flying so much as falling like a projectile shot from a cannon.

They were all out of options.

“Glimmer, it’s going to have to be now,” she said, and moments later felt her friend’s arms encircle her torso.

Another volley of lasers hit the roton and the joystick tore itself from her hands. She felt the craft begin to flip around them even as she watched a purple glow surround her hands and arms. Time seemed to slow to a crawl and then everything flashed pink…

*****

Man-at-Arms stood atop the battlements of the outer walls of the palace, looking through a range-viewer at the approaching Infinitan strike force. Several minutes ago, he had watched a flight of rotons engaged in a dogfight with one of their own, and though the rogue had taken out two other rotons before it had been overwhelmed, the skirmish had been short-lived, and he could still see the smoking wreckage of the rogue half-buried in a field. The fight had occurred too far away for the palace and its defenders to see what had become of the rogue’s crew but having seen the crash with his own eyes Duncan did not think anyone could have survived the impact. Nevertheless, he thanked the rogue roton’s flight crew for giving the palace advance warning of the Infinitans’ arrival.

He could see the strike force quite clearly now through the viewer: the ornate black hull of the central war barge was surrounded by bulky troop carriers that were all then enclosed in a ring of land-shark tanks, and rotons buzzed in the air overhead. He could also see laser-bolts criss-crossing the landscape around the strike force, and the troop carriers no doubt carried other smaller vehicles waiting to be deployed when battle commenced. “They’ll be on top of us in minutes,” said King Randor from his side, who was watching their approach through his own range-viewer. “I had prayed to the Goddess never to see a sight such as this in Eternos again, old friend…”

“I too, sire,” Duncan responded with a weary sigh. “I just wish that I knew my daughter was safe…”

Queen Marlena, who stood with them, rested a hand gently on his forearm. “I’m sure Teela and Glimmer will be okay,” she reassured him, but her own tone was far from convinced.

“They’ve both been trained for situations such as this,” Randor said. “As long as they use that training, I’m sure they’ll be as safe wherever they are as they will be here.”

“I should go and get ready,” Marlena said. She turned to her husband and kissed him tenderly. “Stay safe, my husband.”

“And you too, my wife,” he replied, stroking her cheek warmly.

“Good journey, your majesty,” said Duncan, bowing his head to the queen.

“And you, Duncan,” she replied, before turning from the battlements to take her own position in the palace’s defensive lines. She waited until she had turned away from them both before allowing the tears to spill onto her cheeks, though she quickly wiped them away and steeled herself for what lay ahead. There would be time enough for tears later, no doubt.

“You should go too, old friend,” Duncan told the king. “The battle will be on us soon. You and Bow should be on the inner walls.”

For a moment, the king seemed about to protest – he was not the kind of man to hide behind those who were expected to lay down their lives for his – but he restrained the urge and let out a resigned sigh. “Very well,” he said, clasping the other man’s forearm. “Good journey, Duncan.”

“And you, old friend,” Duncan replied, returning the gesture. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Randor smiled grimly and gave him a firm nod. “Take care,” he said.

Duncan returned the smile, knowing that either one of them might not make it through the coming battle.

Without saying anything more, the king turned to his waiting squire and departed the battlements, leaving Duncan alone in charge of the defence of the outer walls. He stood a moment in thought, sending a silent prayer to the Goddess and the Ancients that the walls of the palace held and the day went their way and not the way of the Infinitans. Duncan bore no ill will to the enemy – none except their leaders, that was – for the Infinitans had long been slaves and pawns to their tyrants and warlords. Perhaps one day that would change, and their peoples could live together in peace as they had in the time of the Ancients, but he doubted such a thing would happen in his lifetime. And it certainly would not be happening today.

He crossed the battlements to where several royal guards clustered around a portable holo-console. They saluted as he approached and made space for him around the pedestal. Above the surface floated an ephemeral three-dimensional image of the land outside the palace walls. The palace and city of Eternos were visible beside the lake, and to the south a cluster of red symbols marked the Infinitan strike force. Between the Infinitans and the palace a green arc demarked the effective range of the blaster-hawks situated strategically along the palace’s walls, and beneath the palace a cluster of green symbols marked the wind-raiders and other air vehicles readied within the hangar beneath Man-at-Arms’ workshop. The Infinitans steadily closed the distance to the green line as he and the other guards watched, the seconds counting down until battle was commenced.

He turned to the lieutenant of the wall standing across from him. “We’re ready, lieutenant?”

The younger man nodded. “Yes, sir. The gates are closed and barred, and the portcullises are down. As soon as the king has reached the inner ramparts, we’ll retract the drawbridges between the walls. Then the only way to the palace for their ground forces will be through the gates and wards.”

“Don’t be too sure,” Duncan replied, knowing what their enemy had been capable of twenty years prior and that whatever Keldor had become during his exile in the Beyond was more dangerous still.

The tension was palpable as the red symbols of the Infinitans drew ever closer to the green line, slowly spreading out into an attack formation with the land-sharks in the lead. And then suddenly the first roton squadron shot forward ahead of the ground craft, their whining buzz soon audible. Duncan tapped the communicator on his helmet and spoke. “This is Man-at-Arms on the outer walls. We have rotons incoming. All blaster-hawks prepare to engage targets!” He had barely finished speaking when the first wave of rotons buzzed over the battlements like angry hornets, their blood-red incendiary lasers scorching the ramparts as guards ducked for cover behind the reinforced crenulations.

Moments later, the palace’s blaster-hawks responded. Flashing disks of orange plasma shot up from atop the palace’s turrets and towers towards the buzzing rotons, filling the sky over the palace with fire. Several rotons were hit and tumbled out of control to collide with the walls or impact in the wards of the palace baileys, exploding in fireballs that showered their surroundings in scorched and burning debris, but more buzzed in to replace them. Duncan recoiled at the destruction and senseless loss of life, and then he drew his metal club from his side, deployed the battle-mode of his techno-armour and gave himself over to his duty as Man-at-Arms of Eternos, shouting commands to the guards on the walls as he rallied them for the inevitable ground assault.

They did not have to wait long for it to come: the land-shark squadrons soon came within firing range of the palace and their cannons opened fire. The heavy force-blasts punched into the outer walls of the palace, shaking them to their foundations and leaving visible impact craters where they hit. Rubble fell from the impact sites to the ground beneath, but the thick walls held firm against the onslaught.

In response, most of the guards ducked for cover behind the crenulations, while other moved into position equipped with shoulder-mounted mega-laser cannons, training the heavy dual-barrelled weapons on the tanks below. One by one the mega-lasers fired, piercing blue beams arcing towards the armoured land-sharks. Several glanced harmlessly of their heavy armour, but others found weak-points and cut deep into the mechanisms and crews within. Several of the land-sharks exploded, but others moved forward to take their place in the line and eventually the mega-laser units were forced to fall back as several of the tanks began to target the battlements directly.

From his cover behind the crenulations of the battlements, Man-at-Arms continued to give orders to the defenders, having switched from the larger portable holo-console to a simpler holographic display of the battle that hovered above his forearm. As the mega-laser units were forced back, he moved to the next stage of the battle plan: “Man-at-Arms to hangar control, begin launch sequence!”

Moments later, the air was filled by the green-and-orange fuselages of wind-raiders, their bow lasers firing and the missiles under their wings shooting through the air to explode as they impacted with the land-sharks. Soon several of the enemy tanks were reduced to smoking wreckage, but then several of the rotons shifted targets from the blaster-hawks on the palace battlements to the wind-raiders and the assault on the tanks broke apart, allowing the pummelling of the outer walls to recommence.

The air was filled with dust, smoke and debris, and fires had broken out at several points across the palace compound. And the Infinitans had not even deployed their ground troops yet. At any moment hundreds of soldiers would flood from the transports and war barge and then the real bloodbath would begin. Watching the holographic display of the battlefield on his forearm, Man-at-Arms looked at the Infinitan carriers still holding back out of range of the palace’s defenders and wondered what exactly they were waiting for…

The carriers continued to sit back out of weapons range as the rotons and land-sharks continued their assaults and the wind-raiders and blaster-hawks responded. There were losses on both sides, and flames licked at the walls of the palace as the royal fire-fighters fought to prevent them from setting the whole compound ablaze. The wind-raiders were faster than the enemy rotons, but not as manoeuvrable, and it quickly became apparent that the fixed blaster-hawk emplacements were also struggling to hit the buzzing craft. At several points in the battle several rotons would break off their dogfighting with the wind-raiders to skim along the palace walls, their spinning perimeter blades turning the battlements into a bloodbath of the dead, maimed and body parts before the remaining guards could regroup to counter the attack. The mega-lasers proved to be more effective against the rotons than the land-sharks, but successfully targeting them remained a problem: the weapons they had deployed so far were simply not cut out for such agile targets.

He tapped the communicator button on his helmet again. “Hangar, this is Man-at-Arms, we need something more agile in the air. The wind-raiders can’t hit the land-sharks for the rotons harrying them.”

A familiar female voice replied. “Duncan, this is Marlena, would it help if we took some of the blaster-hawks airborne?”

“I think that might be a great help, your majesty,” he replied with a smile. “Why do I think you’ve been itching for the chance?”

She laughed over the intercom and it was a pleasant sound amid all the chaos and destruction. “Because you’ve known me too long,” she replied.

*****

Queen Marlena sat atop a purple and red blaster-hawk on a turret emerging from the walls of the palace keep. The hawk-headed craft sat atop a tripod of miniature tank treads, raised up on a pair of jointed armatures that resembled the legs of a bird. Its main body was sleek and aerodynamic, the pilot seated on it like a motorcycle rider beneath a clear domed canopy. At the rear, a trio of jets emerged from beneath a bird-like tail and on the flanks a series of manoeuvring vanes were drawn flush to the fuselage. A hologram floated above the control panel showing her an overview of the blaster-hawk deployments defending the palace.

Marlena spoke into the communicator in her headset. “Rainbow Leader to all units, new instructions incoming. Hawks four, seven, ten, thirteen and sixteen prepare to undock on my mark. All other hawks continue defensive procedures.” She tapped into her hawk’s controls and there was a whirring of gears as the lateral vanes unfurled to either side of her and the tail fanned out around the jet engines. A low rumbling signalled the jet ignition. “Mark!” she called, pressing a final control that detached the armatures from the base tractors and then she took hold of the twin control handles on either side of the panel and pushed her heels down against the throttle.

The jets roared, propelling the blaster-hawk up off the base and into the air where the armatures tucked underneath the fuselage out of the way. Using the handles to control her direction, Marlena banked on course for the nearest roton. “All flyers acquire targets,” she commanded over the intercom. “Base units provide cover for the air units. Fire at will.” Trusting her air guards to do their jobs as they had been trained, she turned her attention to the roton ahead. She pressed the trigger on the right handle and a plasma disk erupted from the open beak of the hawk. The enemy must have spotted her, though, as the roton suddenly changed course at a right angle and simultaneously dropped down beneath the blast.

“Oh no you don’t!” she muttered to herself, shifting her blaster-hawk to pursue – its manoeuvring vanes tilting, yawing and fanning automatically to give her the fastest response to the command – and it rolled over and plunged after the roton. “Initiate auto-targeting,” she commanded the on-board computer as she matched the larger craft’s zigzagging path through the skies above the palace. A targeting reticule in her helmet visor automatically locked onto the roton and, as ground-units hemmed it in with their own plasma fire, she closed in on her target. As much as the roton zipped from side-to-side and shifted course she kept the blaster-hawk in pursuit until she pressed the trigger again.

The plasma disk shot out from her hawk and through the air at point-blank range, tearing into the tail unit of the roton and into the cockpit. The roton began to flip and spiral out of control before impacting against one of the inner walls of the palace far below. Marlena would grieve for the dead later, though, and instead flipped the blaster-hawk onto an intercept course for the next roton.

By now the other five hawks had launched and joined her in the air, harrying the rotons and allowing several wind-raiders to resume their attack runs on the land-sharks. Within minutes of her first kill she scored her second and was on target for her third. The blaster-hawk was nothing like the fighters she had flown back on Earth before she had transferred to NASA. It felt more like riding the racing motorcycle her younger brother had owned, but far faster and more responsive than that old crotch-rocket. Ahead, the roton spun on its axis until its forward incendiary lasers were facing her, but she pulled her hawk into an upward roll before dropping like a stone beyond the scorching beams of the roton. No Earth fighter-jet could have given her such a degree of agility, and she had spent years not only testing the limits of the blaster-hawk’s design but also improving it to be even more responsive and manoeuvrable.

She came up on the roton from beneath and fired a double-volley of plasma disks into its underside. The spinning blades exploded outwards in a flurry of metal shards and fire and smoke billowed from the rotons engine exhausts. She pulled her hawk to the side at the last minute as the larger craft listed to the side and then tumbled out of the air.

She was about to target the next roton when she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. Looking down over the starboard side of her aircraft she saw the ornately armoured Infinitan war barge beginning to move forward towards the palace.

She had not seen a war machine of such size since the Great Unrest. As it moved forward the manned cannon emplacements on its long nose and the end of each rear wing module began to swing into position targeting the battlements atop the outer wall. Blaster bolts and lasers arced out towards the defenders as the barge entered weapons range, forcing the royal guards behind the cover of the crenulations.

At the rear of the barge, she could see the large half-dome of the command position, within which stood an ornate black throne. With the sun to the barge’s rear, she could just make out a dark cloaked and hooded figure sitting within the dome’s shadows, protected from attack by the domed force-field that buzzed and crackled around its edges. Was that really Keldor returned from the dead? The man she remembered had been a charismatic and suave warlord, full of bluster and over-confidence, but the hooded figure was eerily still and seemingly unaffected by the battle waging around him. The shadowy presence disturbed her in a way the Keldor of old never had and yet she could not explain why.

As if the figure felt her watching him, the hooded head rose in her direction, but all she could see within were deeper shadows. Nevertheless, her blood ran cold as his attention turned to her and she pulled her battle-hawk into a turn away from the barge and the hidden gaze of its commander, unable to bear the crawling sensation he elicited across her skin. “Rainbow Leader to all guard stations,” she said over her communicator. “The Infinitans appear to be readying their ground assault.”

Duncan’s voice sounded in her ear in response. “All units reinforce the south quadrant. Enemy troops incoming. They cannot be allowed to breach the wall!”

She glanced back over her shoulder to the war barge to see it had dropped debarkation ramps along its flanks and black armoured Infinitan guardsmen had begun to pour out onto the field. Behind it she could see the six troop transports now moving forward to flank the barge and as she watched they opened dorsal hatches and black-armoured air centurions flew out on jet disks and rose into the air like clouds of flies.

“Air centurions inbound,” she warned over the intercom.

“We see them,” Duncan replied.

Marlena felt somewhat reassured by his response, but as commander of the air guard she could do more than sit back and react to the enemy. She spoke into her helmet communicator: “Rainbow Leader to all blaster-hawk units still at defensive positions, launch when ready. All sky-sled units ready for immediate launch. Infinitan air centurions inbound. All wind-raiders focus fire on the ground vehicles once the blaster-hawks and sky-sleds are airborne.”

Another voice sounded over the intercom that she recognised as Randor: “King Randor to attak-trak units, prepare to deploy in pincer formation and enclose the Infinitan carriers on my command.”

*****

Duncan heard the king’s command from where he crouched sheltering from the Infinitan war barge’s barrage behind the battlements. The air was full of shrapnel and debris from the walls and only his techno-armour protected him from the flying shards of stone and concrete. He smiled grimly: it was about time the tanks came in! If they had timed things right the attak-traks would be able to hem the Infinitans in against the palace walls and then rout them. With some luck they might capture Keldor and end this war before it started.

Suddenly the Infinitan barrage on the wall fell silent and Duncan turned to peer through a gap in the battlements. The land-sharks’ cannons and the gunnery positions of the war barge were holding fire as though waiting on a further command. Even the rotons and air centurions broke off their assaults and withdrew from the palace airspace. Slowly the Eternian guns fell silent too and an eerie stillness fell over the battlefield.

Movement on the war barge drew his attention and he turned to see the hooded and cloaked figure rise from his throne and walk forward along the spine of the barge towards the forward cockpit and gun batteries. Behind him the command dome retracted into the barge and was sealed away by an armoured iris. The figure held a ram-headed staff in one hand that Duncan recognised immediately as the havoc staff, confirming as much as anything else that this was indeed Keldor. He stopped atop the cockpit and looked up at the palace walls. “Come out, Randor!” he called up at the palace, his voice like a death rattle that chilled Duncan to the bone. “Surrender Eternos to me and I may allow your peasants to continue to enjoy living! For a time, at least…”

The figure paused as though seriously awaiting an answer that he must know would not be forthcoming. “Are you sure this is how you want it, Randor?” he called out again. “It would be such a shame if that pretty wife of yours should be injured when our attack begins in earnest. I give you this opportunity to surrender for her sake… Or what about your boy?” There was something coldly mocking in his tone that made the bile rise in Duncan’s throat.

The figure paused as though waiting, as eerily still as he had been seated on his throne.

The sound of machinery drifted to Duncan’s ears, and he looked past the figure to the rear of the Infinitan vehicles. He could not keep the smile from his lips as he saw the blue and red armoured hulls of the Eternian attak-traks moving into position behind the enemy. As they approached, the clanking of treads and gears and the rumble of engines grew louder, but still the hooded figure stood silent and seemingly indifferent to the threat of encirclement. Eventually the attak-traks were in weapons range of the Infinitan carriers, trapping them in a kill zone between the weapons of the palace and the tanks, and still the figure remained still and unconcerned.

“So,” the figure called out as the Eternian tanks came to a halt behind him, “this is your response, eh, Randor? Remember that I gave you the option to end this without more bloodshed and you were the one who refused that more than generous offer!”

The figure raised the havoc staff above his head and its eyes began to glow bright red. Red and purple energy swirled around the head of the staff and coalesced between the coiled horns. Spinning on his heel, the figure swung the head of the staff out from his body and swept it from one end of the line of attak-traks to the other. An arc of energy erupted from it, shooting back through the air past the land-sharks and the Infinitan carriers to where the Eternian tanks stood waiting on the order to fire. Where the energy hit, the armoured vehicles exploded in blood-red fireballs, from one end of the blockade to the other.

Not one of the attak-traks survived the magical assault and Duncan felt his hopes die with their crews. Keldor had been a powerful sorcerer before his banishment into the Beyond but the display of power he had just witnessed was beyond anything even Keldor could have conjured. It was like magic out of the time of the Ancients: something only the Elders might have been able to summon in more recent times, and now they were gone forever. What hope did Eternia have against an enemy whose power rivalled the Elders?

The figure turned back to the palace and called out again. “Very well, Randor. You have sealed the fate of Eternia with your defiance. Soon you will be nothing but a king of ashes!”

He raised the havoc staff again, pointing it at the palace walls beneath Duncan. Again, the swirling red and purple energy formed around the ram’s head and swirled around the shaft and up the figure’s arms like luminescent smoke. The figure seemed to draw upon even more energy than he had to destroy the attak-traks and direct it into and through the staff. The magical power continued to grow brighter and stronger, swirling around the ram’s head and coalescing into a swirling orb of power between the horns that swelled larger and larger by the second.

Duncan pressed his helmet communicator. “This is Man-at-Arms, all guards on the outer wall south quadrant fall back to the guard towers right now!” he commanded urgently.

“Duncan!” Randor’s voice sounded, his tone confused. “What are you doing?”

“This wall is coming down, your majesty,” he responded as he watched the energy of the havoc staff continue to blossom. “I’ve not seen magic this powerful since the Elders…”

“Duncan?” the king asked, his own voice growing concerned, but the Man-at-Arms was too busy scurrying along the wall away from the coming assault to respond. Other guards fled ahead of him towards the tower that divided the southern section of wall from the south-eastern section.

Behind him the crackling of energy around the havoc staff became audible even at his distance from its source and then moments later the wall rolled beneath him like a wave on the sea. The sound was so loud that everything became deathly silent. He felt tremendous heat and pressure at his back hit him with such force that it threw him forward to crash into the walkway atop the wall and knock the wind from him. Only the support systems of his techno-armour saved him from harm by cushioning his fall and dissipating the heat at his back. His head swam and, as the silence dissipated, he heard nothing but ringing in his ears. He thought he might have groaned aloud, but he could not hear anything over the ringing. Slowly, agonisingly, he managed to get to his hands and knees and turned to look back the way he had come.

The wall was gone. A wide section of its length was simply gone, from the battlements down to the earthworks beneath it. Rubble tumbled down either side of the breach, the shredded ends of power cables sparked, and drains and water pipes emptied their contents into the gap. Duncan could scarcely believe how much of the wall had been destroyed, and when he looked towards the middle wall its surface was cratered and pockmarked and chunks of masonry from the outer walls were embedded within its cracked and broken surface. The ward between the two walls had been scoured clear of buildings, objects and people, leaving just piles of rubble and debris and broken bodies. Already the rotons and air centurions were swarming back into the airspace over the palace and he could hear the thumping of the land-shark guns as they resumed fire.

As Duncan watched, the hooded figure floated up through the gap, his cape billowing about him in a spectral wind. It turned to look at him, nothing visible within the shadows of the hood but twin dull red glows where eyes should have been. The figure paused, hovering in mid-air. “Ah, Duncan,” the figure said, “if I said it was good to see you again, I’d be lying…”

“Keldor?” Duncan asked.

The figure cackled, the sound like a death rattle. “Once, perhaps,” it replied. “After I’m through with your king, Man-at-Arms of Eternos, I’ll be back for you. If I were you, I’d spend the time you have until then considering whether you will bend the knee to your new king or follow the old one into oblivion…”

“I will never serve the likes of you!”

The figure cackled again. “It’s your death sentence, old friend,” he crowed before turning away and continuing to levitate towards the inner palace.

His blood boiling with anger, Duncan dragged himself to his feet, ignoring the stabbing pains in his side and the stiffness in his joints. Recovering his mace from where it had fallen further along the battlements, he tapped his helmet communicator. “Man-at-Arms to all units, the outer walls are breached. Prepare for Infinitan ground troops incoming! Reinforce the southern quadrant!” He glanced after the figure, who had alighted on the battlements of the middle walls. Angry red energy blasts surged forth from the havoc staff in repeated bursts as the guards on the middle wall rushed in vain to repel the invader. Over the resuming noise of battle, he could hear the figure cackling madly as he killed Duncan’s men. The feeling of helplessness that threatened to overcome him only made him all the angrier as he turned and ran for the guard tower and the way down into the bailey. The Infinitans would be through the breach soon and as much as he wanted to be at Randor’s side he knew that his place was leading the defence of the palace. He prayed that the Elders were watching over his king from wherever they had disappeared to…

*****

Bow stood at the king’s side on the inner walls of the palace. Above them the air was filled with buzzing rotons dogfighting with wind-raiders and blaster-hawks. Air centurions on jet disks harried the defenders on the walls with blaster-bows while evading the one-man Eternian sky-sleds that attempted to intercept and neutralise them. Mega-laser units fired from the walls at the Infinitan ground forces while the Infinitan land-shark tanks bombarded the walls. It was the first real battle he had ever experienced, and he had to admit it was somewhat overwhelming. The planning and strategy sessions had made it seem like it would be ordered and regimented, but the reality was that it was utter chaos. Even though he knew the plans they had laid out were proceeding on track, any semblance of predictability was absent.

Before the battle had started, he had collected the weapon he had been crafting for the past several months from Man-at-Arms’ workshop: he called it a combow. It was a variable-geometry bow able to function as either a ranged or melee weapon depending on its configuration. So far, he had shot down several air centurions using the weapon’s shock-arrows, but much of the battle was nowhere near his position, so he had yet to test its full capabilities.

The king stood looking at a portable holo-console with several officers of the palace guard. Above its surface hovered a three-dimensional hologram of the palace and its surroundings. The Infinitan forces had largely ignored the walled city that lay to the north of the palace to lay siege to the hilltop palace itself. Numerous red and green symbols moved around the image representing Infinitan and Eternian vehicles and troop deployments. “I can’t believe it!” said one of the guard officers. “How?”

“Never underestimate *him*!” the king replied, his tone grave. “His powers have clearly increased since the last time he tried to kill me and destroy my family.”

“What’s happened?” Bow asked.

Randor glanced around to him, his face pale. “The outer wall has been breached and Infinitan ground forces are already storming the outer bailey of the palace.” Bow had never seen the king looking so worried.

“The middle and inner walls are still standing, though, right?” Bow asked.

“For now,” a grizzled old guard officer replied gruffly. “But that outer wall went down far too easily. The enemy may be too much for us…”

King Randor frowned. “No,” he said. “We cannot give into hopelessness. If we can keep their ground forces in the outer bailey, then we just need to defeat him-” he pointed a finger at a red symbol alone atop the middle walls surrounded by rapidly extinguishing green guard symbols “-and the others will retreat back to the dark hemisphere.”

“Who is he?” Bow asked.

Randor’s frown deepened. “Keldor is an old enemy. One we’d thought we’d long seen the end of.”

“Yet instead of being dead he’s back and stronger than ever,” the grizzled old officer continued, stroking his chin. “This is a sad day for Eternos.”

“Sad indeed,” Randor agreed, but Bow noticed an odd look of pain and grief in his eyes that signified more than anyone was telling.

“Sad, is it?” asked a new voice from outside the circle in a tone as icy as death itself. The king and his officers turned from the hologram to the battlements as the hooded figure slowly ascended into view. As he alighted atop the ramparts, two red orbs began to glow within the hood. “I’m feeling quite elated myself,” he said with a cackling laugh. “Have you missed me all these years, Randor?”

The king took a step back away from the console and drew his sword and sceptre. The sceptre was golden and topped with a great glittering ruby the size of a man’s fist. “Missed you, Keldor?” he scoffed. “Your banishment was the best thing that could have happened to Eternia. I only wish you were still gone!”

“Unfortunately for you, I am not,” the figure replied. “And I return to you as so much more than merely Keldor. Allow me to demonstrate.” Before anyone could react, twin waves of magical energy erupted from the havoc staff to either side of Randor, throwing the officers and guards around the king from the walls. Only his proximity to Randor saved Bow from the same fate, though he felt the heat of the closest blast scorch his arm.

“Those people had families!” Randor shouted furiously. “Children!”

The figure shrugged. “So now Eternia has a few more pathetic orphans on its hands. I’m sure I can find a use for them when I take the throne.”

Randor adjusted the grip on his weapons as he moved away from the holo-console and Bow, trying to protect his squire by drawing the attacker’s attention. “You were always a monster, Keldor! I only wish that I’d seen it earlier!”

“Pah!” the figure spat. “Who was the monster, Randor? Me? Or your father who condemned me to a life of being hated for what I was because of his own selfish ego?”

“You aren’t worthy to speak of him!” Randor responded.

“Oh, Randor,” the figure cackled. “In a way you’re right. Keldor was very unworthy of a great many things.” The red orbs in his hood grew even brighter. “I, however, am far from unworthy! I am the Lord of Destruction, Chaos and Misrule. I am fear and hatred incarnate!” The figure lifted his head slightly, allowing the hood to slide back to reveal the face beneath.

As the bone-white skull was revealed in all its horrific detail, the empty sockets filled with orbs of red fire, Randor’s eyes widened in shock. Across from him, Bow’s face twisted into a grimace of revulsion.

“I am Skeletor!” he announced to them. “And I am the last thing you will see, Randor, as Eternos burns and you grovel at my feet!”

“I don’t know what you have become or how,” Randor responded, leaping forward into an attack, “but I will never grovel to an abomination such as you!”

Keldor leapt to counter, bringing the shaft of the havoc staff between himself and the king’s weapons. “Never, Randor?” he crowed. “We shall see!” With a strength fuelled by magic he pushed back the king’s attack and used the moment of Randor recovering his balance to unsheathe his own sword. The serrated black blade above its golden ram’s head guard glittered dully within its inky depths. “And so ends the short and ignominious rule of Randor, son of Miro, High King of Eternia!” Skeletor gloated as he launched his own attack on the king.

Randor caught Skeletor’s blade against his own, grunting at the sheer force the abomination had exerted with the strike but managing to parry the strike. He swung up his battle-sceptre, attempting to catch the sorcerer under his fleshless chin, but Skeletor took a step backwards and deflected the strike with his staff, before countering with a blast of magic from its ram’s head.

Randor only just managed to dodge the blast, though the heat scorched his cheek as it passed. He countered by driving his blade forward towards his opponent, forcing Skeletor to parry the strike with the staff before he could unleash another magical assault. The sorcerer struck out with his own blade, which Randor deflected up and away from himself with a swing of his sceptre. “I’m not as easily killed as you might like to think!” he grunted. “You forget who you’re fighting!”

“Forget?” Skeletor snarled. “How could I forget what you did to me!? You Eternians like to believe yourselves the heroes, don’t you? Clearly you are the ones with the short memories!”

“I remember how you betrayed us to the Horde!” the king replied, launching another attack, his sword striking Skeletor’s blade with enough strength to force his opponent to step back. “I remember how you led our enemies in the murder of thousands of men and women! And innocent children! The families you destroyed!”

Skeletor turned the king’s attack back on him, the king barely parrying his blade with the heavy battle-sceptre. “Pathetic!” he snarled. “Your sentimentality makes you unfit to rule!”

“No!” the king responded, thrusting his blade forward. “Your cruelty and hatred make you the unfit ruler!” Before Skeletor could dodge out of the way the king’s blade met its target in the bare skin of the sorcerer’s side and continued to slide into the flesh. Randor met the sorcerer’s eyeless gaze, a look of surprised triumph on his face. Skeletor’s expressionless bone visage looked back at him, the red glow in his empty sockets flaring brighter. “Die, you monster!” Randor shouted, shoving the sword deeper with all his strength until the tip erupted from his back.

As his strength gave way, Randor let go of the sword and backed up, expecting his opponent to drop to his knees. Instead Skeletor looked down at the sword that had run him through. He dropped his own weapons and grabbed the hilt of Randor’s sword. A death-rattle laugh filled the air as he pulled on the sword, slowly withdrawing it from within him. Black ooze coated the polished blade as he drew it free, his laughter echoing from the palace walls. Where the sword had been there was only a black void that oozed from its edges.

Randor’s expression turned to horror and he staggered backwards away from his opponent as Skeletor dropped his sword to the floor. “Die?” Skeletor asked mockingly as the wound closed itself. “Oh no, Randor, I shall not be dying at your feeble hand. You, however…” He shot out an open hand towards the king and the king was thrown from his feet by an invisible force that held him pinned against the stonework. “You always underestimated me, Randor,” he said. “If you had understood my power you would never have usurped my rightful throne!”

“You never deserved the throne!” Randor responded, his voice strangled by the pressure on his chest. “My only mistake was thinking that you might have!”

The red glow in Skeletor’s sockets flared even brighter and Randor groaned in pain as the pressure on his torso increased, grinding him into the stones. His breastplate buckled visibly.

“You may kill me, monster,” Randor croaked, “but you will never be the rightful king of Eternos!”

The pressure increased again and Randor felt darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision. He felt his ribcage beginning to crack.

Bow’s attack almost came out of nowhere: neither the king nor Skeletor had registered his continued presence atop the wall with them since their battle had commenced, and now he used the element of surprise to his full advantage. A brace of shock-arrows struck the sorcerer, discharging their current into Skeletor’s flesh. Skeletor staggered slightly as the electricity surged through his body and before he had recovered the younger man had darted in from the side with his combow in hand to push his attack. The combow reformed at his change of grip into a side-handed baton longer than his forearm with a curved section on either end. He drove his forearm into the sorcerer’s skull face with the weapon in between, whipping Skeletor’s head back, then pulled his elbow back and hooked him under the jaw, knocking him back again.

As Skeletor staggered under the sudden and unexpected attack, Bow retreated away and with a flick of the wrist transformed the combow again into a crossbow mounted on his bracer. He loosed a volley of steel-tipped bolts from it towards the sorcerer as he retreated away. His opponent took the bolts on his forearm, the steel tips puncturing his bracer, flesh and bone, but absorbed the hits without complaint. And now the element of surprise was gone.

Skeletor looked at the young man. “A futile gesture, boy,” he gloated. “Brave, noble, but futile.” With his other hand he ripped the bolts from his forearm, and then pulled the arrows from his side, and Bow watched the injuries fade away. “You deserve a better master than Randor.” He held out a hand to the young man. “Join me. These people are the past. I am the future.”

“Not a future I want to live in,” Bow replied.

“You think you get to choose?” Skeletor scoffed. He flicked a hand dismissively in Bow’s direction and an invisible force lifted him from his feet and threw him heavily to the ground. His head hit the stonework as he landed, and darkness swirled in from the edges of his vision until everything went black.

Skeletor turned back to the king as Bow lost consciousness, summoning his weapons back into his hands as he did so. Randor had crawled to his hands and knees during the distraction. There was blood on his lips and dirt on his cape and armour. “Look at you, Randor,” he gloated, pushing the king back down with magical force, crushing him against the stone floor. “So weak and feeble. To think there was a time when I thought you were a great warrior. To think I thought you and I were equals…”

“We were never equal,” Randor groaned as he struggled to his feet. “I was always a better man than you!”

Skeletor laughed with genuine amusement. “Does that idea give you comfort now, hmm? Here, at the moment you die? A comforting lie for the man who stole a throne that was never meant to be his?” A blast from the havoc staff threw Randor back to the ground, spread-eagled on his back, magical bands of energy securing him in place by the wrists and ankles. Skeletor walked towards him, lifting his sword for the final strike. “Well, I deny you it, Randor, son of Miro. You are a weakling and a usurper who stole everything he has from better men! Take that knowledge to your grave, old fool!” He plunged his sword at the king’s heart.

The blast of golden-white light took him off his feet and tossed him like a leaf across the battlements, preventing him from striking the killing blow at the last moment. His sword and the havoc staff scattered from his hands as he rolled over and over across the stonework.

“Who dares!?” he shouted, returning to his feet in a magically propelled leap. The havoc staff and his sword leapt back into his outstretched hands with a thought.

“I dare, evil one!” said a powerful female voice from above. He looked up to see the Sorceress of Grayskull floating above him, her great wings outstretched, and a glowing white staff topped by a winged orb held in her hands. “You have caused enough pain and suffering for one day! Be gone!”

“So, you dare to show your face,” Skeletor chuckled. “Have you had enough of hiding away in your old ruins, Sorceress? I’ve been looking forward to letting you see the result of your handiwork…” He spread his arms wide, his skull grimacing up at her. “…Here I am, Sorceress. Are you impressed with the results of your spell?”

“Though I banished you, Keldor, the abomination you have become was no work of mine,” she replied. “Still, I see clearly now that banishing you was a grave error that allowed you to become this thing that was once a man. One that I will endeavour to correct!”

“Then let us see which of us is the more powerful!” Skeletor spat, raising the havoc staff between them and unleashing a blast of angry red power towards her.

With a gentle sweep of her white staff the energy was brushed aside and dissipated harmlessly. “In the name of the Elders, abomination, I will put an end to this darkness!”

“I’d like to see you try,” he snarled, levitating up into the air to join her. “You underestimate my power!”

“That remains to be seen,” she replied, pulling her wings in and plummeting to meet him.

They met with a clash of staffs that sent a magical shockwave rippling out across the sky in all directions and forced them apart. The Sorceress’s wings flared as she drew herself to a stop. Below her, Skeletor flipped himself over as he fell until he was upright, alighting gently on the wall below with one foot before pushing himself back into the air towards her, accelerating upwards with a flash of red magic from the havoc staff. As he neared her again, he raised his sword to run her through, but at the last minute she moved aside with a beat of her wings, allowing him to fly past her.

She turned after him, a beat of her wings propelling her upwards behind him, her staff in her left hand. A golden-white glow surrounded her right hand before materialising as a golden-winged sword with a blade of pure white that seemed to glow from within. Above her, Skeletor turned and fired a blast from his havoc staff down at her. She deflected the blast with her own staff, spinning in the air before continuing her ascent with another beat of her wings.

As she reached her skull-faced opponent he turned to her with empty sockets glowing fiery red. Without a word he darted towards her, sword raised, and she parried the blow on her own blade. Her sword rang out clear as crystal while Skeletor’s shrieked like the unquiet dead at their clashing. Again, they came together, swords clashing between them, and this time they locked together, neither willing to give ground to the other.

“Your strength will fail before mine, Sorceress,” he crowed.

“Perhaps,” she admitted serenely. “But this is not a battle resting on strength alone as you well know. There are greater powers at my disposal than mere strength.”

“What do you know of power, woman?” he snarled, breaking their sword lock and pushing her back with his blade. “Hiding in your ruined castle, forgotten and abandoned for aeons.”

“More than you could begin to understand,” she replied, allowing the momentum of his sword break to carry them apart.

“Pah!” he spat, rushing towards her. “Ultimate power is my destiny, Sorceress! I shall have it! There can be no other outcome!”

She raised her staff and blocked his attack with a field of shimmering white magic that appeared between them. “Men who crave power look back on the mistakes of their lives, pile them all together, and call it destiny,” she told him, shaking her head sadly. “It is distressing to see how far you have fallen, Keldor…”

The red glow flared in his empty sockets again. “You dare pity me?” he shouted. “I have seen wonders you cannot begin to comprehend!” He raised the havoc staff and unleashed a blast of magic against the Sorceress’s barrier, shattering it into myriad glittering motes that faded into nothing. “You cannot even dream of what I have experienced these past years!”

He rushed her again, swinging the havoc staff as a club, its ram’s head burning with magical fire. She blocked with her own staff and used his momentum to spin out of his reach, then flared her wings to halt herself.

“What you might call wonders, Keldor, a sane person would recognise as horrors,” she told him sadly. “I accept my own part of the fault in this tragedy, but the greater choices that led you here were your own to make. I grieve for the good man that you once were, for he would not recognise the creature before me…”

“Spare me your platitudes,” he spat. “You speak of tragedy where I see impending triumph! You are right that the choices that led us here were mine to make and had I them all to do over again I would change nothing! Do not insult me with your grief. It’s pathetic!”

“It may not be too late to step away from the precipice you balance on, Keldor,” she told him. “Even now there is the hope of redemption. Even for you.”

“Never!” he cackled. “Redemption, Sorceress? From what would I seek to be redeemed? Keldor was a weak fool who was used as nothing more than a tool by those more powerful than him. As Skeletor I am now the one whose power reduces others to tools of my will!”

The Sorceress shook her head. “Very well, Skeletor,” she sighed. “But know that this power you believe you now have has made you its slave and, in the end, it will bring you nothing but loss and pain…”

With a howl of rage, Skeletor launched himself at her, the havoc staff burning in his grip. Again, the Sorceress backed off, raising her staff between them and using it to deflect aside the fiery ram-skull as he came within range. His sword hand rushed towards her as their staffs clashed, the serrated black blade aimed for her unprotected side as her own sword was unable to block due to their staffs. She spun to the side away from the thrust and drew her wings tight to her back, causing her to plummet towards the ground away from him.

“Run all you like, Sorceress!” he shouted after her. “It won’t do you any good in the end!”

As the ground rushed up to meet her, she twisted in the air until she was facing down, diving head-first for the stone walls of the palace. At the last possible moment, she spread her wings to catch the air and arrested her descent, swooping across the domed roof of the palace to land on the walls beside the prone forms of King Randor and Bow. She turned to see Skeletor rushing towards her surrounded in mystical red fire, his skull sockets blazing with power and the havoc staff held out ahead of him.

The Sorceress raised her own staff and a shimmering dome of light appeared around her. She lowered the staff and folded her wings, waiting for him to reach her. “Spirit of Grayskull, grant me the power to defeat this evil,” she whispered under her breath. She took a deep breath and allowed herself to become a conduit to the power she watched over and protected within the walls of Castle Grayskull. Her eyes blazed white and her magical dome became so bright and solid as to be almost opaque.

Skeletor smashed into her force-field at tremendous speed, surrounded by the power of the havoc staff, and yet it refused to yield. He saw the face of the Sorceress within, her expression at the same time determined and yet mournful. As his power surged against hers, enveloping her dome in burning red energy seeking a gap in her defences, he roared his rage at her to the heavens, burning his magic hotter and stronger and unrelenting.

And yet the Sorceress’s magic held firm, and she even managed to take a step towards him as he threw everything he had against her. “Impossible!” he shouted, panic in his voice. Had he eyes they would have been wide with disbelief and perhaps even fear. “You will not deny me my destiny, old woman!”

“I gain no pleasure from this, Keldor,” she said under her breath. “May the Elders and the man you once were forgive me for it.”

“Never!” he shouted, his fear turning to rage, and he poured even more of his magic through the havoc staff to destroy her. “You cannot be this powerful! It’s a trick! A deception!”

“Cease!” she called out, raising her own staff between them, and the mystical flames of Skeletor surging around her own magic sputtered and died back. In response her own magic flared even brighter once free of the dark magic of her opponent. Skeletor watched in incredulity as his power was forced back into the havoc staff and subdued by the light of the Sorceress. And then he felt her light enter the havoc staff and from it course up his arms and into his core.

At the last moment, he turned his own magic inward to protect himself and it from the might of the Sorceress’s purging light, and then the last of the red flames that had burned around him died and he fell to his knees before her, the havoc staff falling from his fingers and clattering to the wall. “How?” he croaked, looking up at his subjugator.

The light faded from around the Sorceress and her glowing green eyes looked down on him with immense pity and compassion. “Your overconfidence in your own power was always your greatest flaw, Prince Keldor,” she said sadly, and he could hear the exhaustion in her voice. “Since you were a little boy you always believed yourself more than what you were. You may even have become what you believed yourself to be had you the humility to recognise your failings.” She looked away from his skull-face, remembering the face of the man he had once been with sorrow. “You could have been the saviour of Eternia. You had the potential to defeat the Horde and sit at the right hand of the Elders, but your anger and envy made you blind to what could have been.”

“Spare me,” he snarled at her. “I was never one of you. I was too much my mother’s son in your eyes. Whenever these people looked at me do you think I never saw the mistrust and hatred in their eyes?”

“No,” she sighed, and she stroked his cheekbone gently with her soft hand, yet he could not feel her touch there. “You were mistreated by many, it is true. And yet you had it within your power to prove that they had misjudged you grievously, and instead you allowed your resentment to prove them right.”

“If you plan on destroying me, please hurry up and do so,” he spat at her. “I grow weary of your prattling, old woman.”

She shook her head. “It pains me to see you so lost…”

“Kill me if you can!” he shouted at her. “I dare you!”

Again, all he saw in her eyes at his words was sadness and pity and it burned him inside to see it. He would make her rue this day, somehow, even if he had to escape death’s clutches to do so!

“Very well,” she said, stepping back. “Prince Keldor, son of Miro and Saryn, in the name of the Elders of Eternia I render judgement upon you for all your many crimes.” She raised her staff and once again the winged orb at its head glowed with golden-white power. “For the sake of all of Tellus and the balance of the universe, I-”

The blast of purple energy hit the Sorceress from behind and threw the woman from her feet, knocking the staff from her grip. “So sorry I’m late,” said Evil-Lyn as she levitated onto the crenulations, her skirts and cape swirling around her and purple magic rising from the orb of her staff like smoke. “The guards on the gate seemed to have misplaced my invitation and it was such trouble to convince them to let me in…” She jumped down onto the wall and crossed towards the Sorceress who lay prone on the stonework. “Oh, am I interrupting?” she asked, smirking cruelly. She fired another blast of magic from her staff into the Sorceress’s back, keeping the power surging onto, around and into her for several long, agonising seconds as she watched the other woman writhe in pain.

When the Sorceress’s pained movements ceased, Evil-Lyn allowed the magic to ebb away back to her staff and turned to where Skeletor knelt watching. “Are you harmed?” she asked him, her tone almost concerned.

“I will recover,” he replied, staggering to his feet. He reached a hand for the havoc staff, but his magic was so drained that it did little more than rattle on the stonework and he had to bend to recover both it and his sword. “The Sorceress may have won the Eternians this day,” he said darkly, “but she will pay the price for her interference…”

“Won them the day?” Evil-Lyn asked, incredulously. “My lord, we are on the verge of victory!”

“Silence!” he snapped at her. “I need to return to Snake Mountain to recover my strength. We retreat!”

For a moment, Evil-Lyn almost began to protest again, but then thought better of it. “As you wish, Lord Skeletor,” she said, bowing her head.

“Bring their king,” he said, indicating the unconscious Randor. “He will make an excellent bargaining chip.”

She nodded again, masking her frown. She pointed her staff at the unconscious king, enveloping him in a bubble of energy that lifted him from the ground and followed her as she and Skeletor turned to leave the palace.

*****

Adam saw the smoke rising above the horizon before the Royal Palace of Eternos came into view across the plains. His journey back from Castle Grayskull had not been uneventful: the Infinitan vanguards had somehow managed to get ahead of him while he had listened to the Sorceress and he had been forced to return home via the less direct route south of the Eternian Highlands along the northern coast of the Sea of Rakash before turning north where the mountains gave way to the Eternian Ocean in the west. As a result, the wind-raider was almost out of fuel and he was not sure it would make it as far as the palace hangars.

“Oh my,” Orko said from the seat beside him. “That doesn’t look good at all.”

The smoke filled Adam with a cold dread, remembering that the Sorceress had said that Eternos would be besieged and must not fall. Suddenly his leaving Grayskull without hearing the rest of what the Sorceress had to say seemed very foolish. And futile. He only hoped that he was not too late to make a difference, though what difference he could make he could not say. He was no warrior. No champion. He was only barely a grown man. He pushed the throttle of the wind-raider to full and felt the craft surge forward. If anything had happened to his parents or friends, he would never be able to forgive himself…

“I’m sure everything will turn out okay,” said Orko, patting his shoulder. “Eternos is one of the best defended cities in all Eternia…”

“I don’t think so,” Adam said, filled with shame. “This is all my fault.”

“How?” Orko asked. “That’s silly. We got back here as quickly as we could. And if we’d stayed with the Sorceress, we’d not have been here at all. This isn’t your fault.”

“In a way it is,” he replied. “You were right. I should have stayed and heard what the Sorceress had to say. Maybe she could have got us back sooner if I had.”  
Orko did not respond.

“You think so too, don’t you?” the prince asked.

“Well, I suppose it is one way of looking at things,” Orko replied reluctantly. “But it’s not the only way. You’re leaping to all sorts of conclusions about what might have been with no evidence whatsoever.”

“I’m right though,” Adam said. “This is partly my fault…”

The palace was approaching quickly, and the wind-raider’s fuel gauge was about to reach critical when several craft suddenly descended on them. Adam had only seen rotons in history books, but that was clearly what these were, and they buzzed around the wind-raiders like angry hornets. Heat lasers lanced out towards Adam’s craft and he was forced to attempt evasive manoeuvres to avoid being hit. Even so the enemy scored several hits on the fuselage and set alarms wailing in the cockpit.

“Oh dear,” Orko cried out. “Adam, we’re no match for them all.”

“I know,” the prince replied, using what little skill as a pilot he had to bank and roll the wind-raider through the sky in hopes of evading a direct hit on anything critical. He glanced at the fuel gauge. “It won’t make much difference shortly, anyway. We’re about to lose power…”

Suddenly a roton that was buzzing in to overtake them was hit by a disk of orange plasma and was engulfed in flames. A woman’s voice sounded over the wind-raider’s radio – “We’ve got you, wind-raider!” – and moments later the sky was full of blaster-hawks tearing into the rotons.

Adam recognised the voice. “Mom?” he whispered.

“Rainbow leader to hawks twelve and fifteen,” the voice came again, “escort the wind-raider to the hangars. The rest of us will handle the rotons!”

Adam fumbled for the radio and managed to get on the headset. He spoke into the mouthpiece, trying not to sound panicked. “This is Prince Adam,” he said. “I don’t think we’re going to make it to the hangar. Our fuel gauge is on empty and we’ve taken damage.”

“Adam?” the queen’s voice came again, her tone a strange mix of fear and relief. “Adam, what are you doing here? Duncan said you were at Castle Grayskull.”

Adam felt himself flush with shame. “I’ll explain when we’re on the ground,” he said, hoping to delay the explanation at least that long.

“Understood,” the queen responded, once again all business. “Hawks twelve and fifteen, get the prince’s wind-raider inside the palace walls. I’ll join you once we’ve driven off these rotons.”

“Understood, rainbow leader,” came the response and Adam watched as a pair of blaster-hawks broke off their attack and fell into formation on either flank of his wind-raider. “Prince Adam, this is hawk twelve; how much fuel do you have left?”

“Adam to hawk twelve, we’re flying on fumes.”

“Understood, your highness,” came the response. “Just follow us in gently and try not to over-manoeuvre and everything will be fine.”

The two blaster-hawks pulled slightly ahead of the wind-raider and led it towards the palace while the other hawks kept the rotons off their tails.

Although Adam was conscious of their ebbing fuel reserves, and the controls felt sluggish from the damage they had taken in the roton attack, his attention was still drawn to the palace. The wreckage of multiple tanks could be seen outside the earthworks the palace sat atop, while in the south quadrant a huge rent cut through the outer wall. The wreckage of multiple wind-raiders and rotons could be seen below as they passed over the palace baileys, and the air was filled by sky-sleds. Smoke rose from several fires within the palace and the cooling embers of others. The rendering on the palace walls was cracked and pock-marked in many places, and even cratered down to the underlying stonework in others. He had never seen the aftermath of a battle with his own eyes, and amid the rubble and wreckage he could see the broken bodies of the dead littered like bloodied ragdolls amid the debris. He felt hot tears sting his eyes and run down onto his cheeks at the sight and again felt shame at having tried to run away from his own part in this. He should have done more to prevent it, and his own cowardice had meant he had done nothing at all.

“Hawk twelve to wind-raider,” came a voice over the radio, bringing him out of the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him. “We’re going to put down in the inner bailey. Are your vertical thrusters working?”

Adam blinked away the tears and wiped his cheeks, checking the instrument read-outs on the console in front of him. “I- I think so,” he replied. “But I don’t know if there’s enough fuel for a vertical landing.”

There was a disconcerting moment of silence before the reply came. “Prince Adam, we’re bringing in a pair of wind-raiders to grapple your craft and help you down. Just stay on a steady course with us until they get here.”

“Okay,” Adam replied, swallowing nervously.

“Just stay calm, your highness, and everything will be fine.”

The wait for the other wind-raiders could not have been more than a minute and yet to Adam it felt like a lifetime, but finally he heard their engines and saw them move into position above in front and behind him. From the nose of each craft a winch began to drop down and eventually the magnetised grapples at their tips contacted the fuselage of Adam’s craft and locked in place.

A new voice spoke. “This is raider six. We have you, your highness. If you can cut your forward engines and switch to vertical, we’ll help you in.”

“Okay, raider six,” he replied, pulling back on the forward throttle and throttling up the vertical thrusters to compensate. Then he gradually pulled back on the vertical thrusters as the three wind-raiders descended towards one of the palace baileys.

When he felt the undercarriage engage with the ground of the courtyard, he felt a tension he had not fully noticed flood out of him, and he practically slumped against the control console. “Adam to raider six,” he said over the radio, his voice a relieved sigh, “we’re down.”

“Understood, your highness,” came the response. “Do you need any medical assistance?”

He glanced across to Orko, who indicated he was fine. “I- no,” he replied. “No one is injured.”

“Understood. Stay in the raider. Most of the Infinitan forces have fled the palace but there may be a few lagging behind. There are guards and emergency personnel on route to your location.”

“Okay,” he said, and then pulled the headset off his head and slumped back into his seat with a heavy sigh. Barely a second later, the control panels blanked, and the indicator lights went dark all around them as the last of the power failed. For some reason, this made Adam laugh aloud and moments later Orko joined him.

“Let’s not do that again,” the alien wizard said through his relieved laughter.

“I’ll try my best,” the prince replied, and this made him laugh even more until tears ran down his cheeks.

Their laughter was shortly interrupted by movement outside the canopy and Adam looked to see Royal Guards and fire-fighters entering the courtyard. As the guards took up defensive positions around the perimeter of the courtyard, the fire-fighters came forward to check on the wind-raider. After several seconds, one of the fire-fighters received a thumb up from his comrades and pulled on the manual release handle for the canopy. There was an audible thump as the atmosphere seal broke and then a couple of the fire-fighters were lifting the canopy up and off.

“Are you both okay?” one of the fire-fighters asked.

Adam nodded, releasing the seat harness and accepting a proffered hand to clamber out of the wind-raider. As he stepped down onto the ground his legs wobbled a little, but he managed not to fall. “Easy,” the fire-fighter said, steadying him. “The numbness should wear off in a minute. It’s a normal response to the tension of an emergency landing.”

Adam nodded and waited a few seconds for his body to catch up with events. “Is the battle over?” he asked, looking around.

“More or less,” the fire-fighter replied. “There are a few Infinitan soldiers and air centurions still around. They left several rear-guard units behind to keep us from pursuing their retreat but it’s a token resistance.”

“So, we won?” Adam asked, feeling even more relieved.

Before the fire-fighter could reply, a blaster-hawk roared overhead, circled the courtyard and then came into land not far from the wind-raider on its two bird-like landing struts. Its wings folded, the chest opened to form a third landing leg and then the canopy popped open as its engines quieted. Queen Marlena jumped from the cockpit and ran towards her son. As she reached him, she threw her arms around him and pulled him into a tight embrace. “Oh, Adam, thank goodness you’re okay!” she said. “Duncan said you were with the Sorceress at Castle Grayskull but then, when she appeared here without you, I didn’t know what to think!”

“I’m okay,” he replied, returning the embrace sheepishly, his shame creeping back over him. “Wait, the Sorceress is here?”

The queen took a step back and gave him a confused look. “She arrived just in time to prevent the Infinitans from overwhelming the palace defences,” she said. “You didn’t know?”

“No,” he replied. “She must have come here after I set off back.”

“Well, in any case,” the queen said, “I’m glad that you’re safe and well.”

“Where’s the Sorceress now?” Adam asked, eager to see her again and apologise.

“I’m told she’s been taken to the palace infirmary,” Marlena replied.

“The infirmary? Is she okay?”

Marlena looked away a moment, then back to him. “There’s something else you need to know,” the queen said, and her tone was filled with grief. “It’s about your father…”

Adam felt his heart skip a beat. “Father?”

“The Infinitans have taken him,” she replied, stoically.

“But he’s alive?” he asked, then followed with: “We need to go after them and get him back!”

“He’s alive and we will,” the queen reassured him. “But we can’t run off on a whim and unprepared. We very nearly lost everything today: the Infinitans very nearly overwhelmed our defences. We can’t afford another mistake like that. Their leader is far too powerful. If the Sorceress hadn’t intervened…” She shook her head, not even willing to say the words.

Adam knew she was right and, as much as every fibre of his being longed to jump into another wind-raider and fly to Infinita in pursuit of his father’s abductors, reason told him that it was far more important at that moment to try and speak to the Sorceress. “I need to go to the infirmary,” he said. “The Sorceress and I need to finish the conversation we were having in Castle Grayskull.”

Marlena’s expression turned confused, but his own expression must have convinced her that it was important because she nodded. “Very well,” she said. She indicated for two of the guards to accompany him, and then took his hands in hers. “We will get your father back,” she told him, though he was not sure if she did so for his sake or her own. “I need to go to the council chamber and make the necessary preparations, but I’ll see you shortly.” She touched his cheek gently. “Whatever happens next, please be careful.”

“I will,” he replied before he and Orko headed to the infirmary with the two guards.

*****

The infirmary was in the inner bailey of the palace, adjoining the main keep and the subterranean shelters in which the citizenry of Eternos could hide during times of war. It was a long narrow building of several stories, spanning the bailey adjacent to one of the walls dividing its wards. The gates of the ward passed beneath the infirmary on the ground floor and could be sealed on either side of the building to defend from invaders, with the entrance to the building in the intervening tunnel. Its interior was divided into storerooms on the ground floor and cellars, with long wards of beds, surgical rooms and apothecary’s dispensaries on the upper floors.  
The Sorceress had been taken to a private treatment room where the palace physician, Mendor, had done what he could to treat her physical injuries but, as he told Prince Adam on his arrival, her injuries were not merely physical: she had been wounded by magic, the treatment of which was beyond his medical expertise. The two guards Queen Marlena had assigned to her son remained outside while Adam and Orko entered. They were surprised to find Man-at-Arms sitting at her bedside, and the old man looked up as they entered, dirtied from battle and weary. “Prince Adam, you’re here!” he said in surprise.

“How is she?” Adam asked, approaching the bed.

“Weak,” Duncan replied, his expression troubled. “But at least alive.”

“This is my fault,” Adam said as he stood at the bedside looking down at the woman. She looked somehow smaller and mortal hooked up to the physician’s machines, and without her headdress and feather mantle she looked neither imposing nor superhuman. Her hair was auburn, greying at the temples and fastened in a single long braid at the nape of her neck. Her green eyes opened as she heard his voice and she smiled weakly up at him. “No, Prince Adam,” she said. “Do not blame yourself. This was my choice to make and I would have made the same one whatever answer you had given me at the castle.”  
“I could have helped.”

Her smiled broadened. “You would have tried to, yes,” she said. “But there would have been little Prince Adam of Eternos could have done to change the outcome.”

“I thought I was the champion Eternia needed to defeat this threat,” he replied, confused.

She nodded. “You will be, young prince. But to do so you will need to first find the Sword of Power. Only with its power will you be able to defend Eternia.”

“The Sword of Power?” Duncan asked, surprised.

She nodded again. “Yes, old friend,” she said with a faint smile. “Zoar told you long ago that one day Adam would be called to defend Eternia from darkness. Did you think we intended to send your young prince to his fate unaided?”

“But the Sword of Power?” Duncan asked, looking from her to Adam. “I had understood that its wielder could not be drawn from the line of Grayskull until the time had come for-”

The Sorceress spoke before he could finish. “Yes, Duncan, that is the case.”

“Then Adam…?”

“Yes.”

Duncan looked at the prince with an expression Adam had never seen directed his way before: awe. He also saw concern there, and fear. The older man looked back to the Sorceress. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“The Order of Zoar has awaited this for five thousand years,” she replied with a lilting chuckle. “I think as one of the last of that order I can be fairly certain of it. Prince Adam’s destiny is to claim the power of the Sword of Power and usher in the fulfilment of the Prophecy of Grayskull.”

“Then that means-” Duncan began but the Sorceress put a finger to his lips, silencing him before he finished his thought.

“The prophecy must unfold of its own accord, Duncan,” she said.

He nodded, remaining silent.

“Do I get to know what you’re not saying?” Adam asked.

“One day,” she replied. “It’s not wise to know too much about the future, Prince Adam.”

The prince looked between the two of them and frowned. “I guess I can wait to be surprised,” he said wryly.

“Indeed, you can,” the Sorceress replied with a smile.

“Will you be okay?” Adam asked, suddenly remembering why she was in the infirmary. “My mother said you had fought the leader of the Infinitans.”

“Indeed,” the Sorceress replied. “He was a formidable opponent.”

“What has Keldor become?” Duncan asked. “He isn’t even a man anymore.”

The Sorceress shook her head sadly. “I wish I knew. An abomination. He calls himself Skeletor now and styles himself as the Lord of Destruction, Chaos and Misrule. And his power was formidable. Only my connection to Grayskull allowed me to best him, but then his witch caught me unawares. The effort has left me weakened. I need to return to Grayskull to rest and recover my power for a time before I will be able to face him again…”

“As soon as you are able to walk, I’ll fly you back,” Duncan told her. “For now, you should rest.”

“There is no time for me to linger here,” she replied, shaking her head. “Within Grayskull I am at my most powerful and will recover faster. The longer I am away the more my powers will ebb and the weaker I will become… And the castle’s defences with me. I must return there today.”

“You’re in no condition to go anywhere!” Duncan insisted.

“Old friend,” she said, touching his cheek, “trust me on this. If I could remain here with my friends I would gladly do so, but my responsibilities and the reality that goes with them will not allow it regardless of my wishes. You know this as well as I do, Duncan…”

He looked down and away from her, his expression pained. “Okay. I’ll have a wind-raider readied and fly you back.”

“I know you’re concerned for my wellbeing, Duncan,” she said, “and I thank you for it. But the castle will restore me better than any infirmary could.”

“Before you go,” Adam interjected, “can you tell me where to find the sword?”

“I don’t know where it is,” she replied. “The Goddess of Eternia guards the sword when its power is not needed.”

“Then how do I find it?” he asked, incredulously.

She smiled. “That is why this is a quest, Prince Adam. It will reveal itself to the one worthy of having it…”

He sighed heavily. “Wonderful…”

“Don’t lose heart,” she told him. “To go forward, sometimes it is necessary to first go back…”

“Back?” Adam asked. “Back where? To Castle Grayskull?”

The Sorceress smiled knowingly but said nothing. Instead, she turned to Man-at-Arms. “Duncan, help me up. Before I leave, I must speak to the queen.”

“She said she was going to the council chamber,” said Orko from where he hovered at Adam’s side.

The Sorceress nodded. “Prince Adam, go and tell your mother I would speak to her. Be sure that you and your friends are present when I arrive. Duncan and Orko will bring me to the council chamber shortly.”

“But-” Adam began to protest.

“Adam!” Duncan interrupted him sternly.

“Okay, I’m going,” the prince responded and left the three of them alone in the room. The two guards fell in beside him as he headed for the keep.

As he walked through the long ward beyond the Sorceress’s room towards the stairs, a voice called his name and he turned to see Teela sitting on the edge of one of the beds. She had a few cuts and scrapes but was otherwise uninjured. “Adam, there you are,” she said as he approached. “Where have you been? You completely missed the battle!”

“I was around,” he replied, unwilling to lie to her about Castle Grayskull, Zoar’s words and the Sword of Power. “Did you see the Sorceress fight Skeletor?”

“No,” she replied. “I was here in the infirmary for most of the battle with Glimmer.”

“Is she alright?”

“She is now,” Teela replied. “We were caught outside the palace when the Infinitans attacked and-”

“Thank the Ancients you’re both okay!” he said.

She frowned at his interruption. “If you would let me finish,” she continued, “Glimmer had to teleport us both back to the palace. It took a lot out of her, but she’s recovered now.”

“At least you’re both okay,” he replied. “Where’s Glimmer now?”

“She went to visit Bow. He was caught up in the fight between that monster leading the Infinitans and King-” She stopped, leaving the sentence unfinished. “I- I’m sorry about your father…”

“We’ll get him back,” Adam said, and he was as surprised as anyone else to hear the certainty in his voice. “One way or another.”

Teela nodded. “I’m sure we will.”

“Is Bow in the infirmary too?” Adam asked.

“He’s in a different ward,” Teela replied. “I was just about to go there. One of the sisters insisted on cleaning my cuts and scrapes before I could go, so I’m just waiting for-”

Adam smirked. “Do you think a prince outranks a sister?” he asked her. “Only I was instructed by the Sorceress to make sure my friends were in the council chamber when she arrived.”

“You spoke to the Sorceress?” Teela asked, amazed.

He nodded. “She’s back there with your father and Orko and wants to speak to my mother before she leaves. And she wants us to be there when she does.”

Teela’s eyes glittered excitedly. “I get to meet the Sorceress of Grayskull in person?” she asked.

“Depends if a prince outranks a nurse, doesn’t it?” he asked with a smirk.

“Oh, I think it does,” she told him. “But if anyone asks you ordered me to go with you…”

“Of course,” he replied. “Let’s go and get Bow and Glimmer.”

She jumped up off the bed and the two of them left the ward together, trailed by Adam’s two guards.

*****

By the time the Sorceress arrived at the council chamber of the palace, the room was crowded with people. The queen stood at the central table with the royal councillors and the senior officers of the royal guard, and behind them clustered various courtiers, junior officers and minor lords of the royal court, as well as Prince Adam, Princess Glimmer, Teela, Bow and Kowl. As Man-at-Arms and Orko helped her into the room, those around the table made a space for her across from the queen and she thanked her two companions for their support before walking to the table as Duncan and Orko joined the small group around Prince Adam.

“Thank you for seeing me, your majesty,” the Sorceress addressed the queen. “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“As do I,” Marlena replied. “I’m glad to see you recovering from your injuries. Had you not intervened on our behalf I fear Eternos would have been lost.”

“I fear it may yet be destroyed by the power of this Skeletor creature,” the Sorceress replied. “My fight with him has left me weakened and in need of rest. I must return to Castle Grayskull and it may be some time before I am able to leave its walls again. The one piece of good news is that it also weakened him, and it will take him some time to recover his own full strength.”

“Then I pray you are recovered sooner,” Marlena said. “Without you at our side we have no power to fight that monster.”

“I am afraid that my powers will remain weakened far longer than his,” the Sorceress said, and the announcement was met by a murmur of fearful and discontented chatter across the room.

“Then all hope for Eternia is lost?” asked a grey-haired noblewoman standing with the queen.

The Sorceress shook her head. “There is still one who can defend Eternia from this Skeletor, Lady Elizabeth. We simply need to find him. The He-Man.”

“The He-Man?” asked Marlena. “No one has seen him since the Great Unrest. He must be an old man by now…”

“The He-Man is not a singular man, your majesty,” the Sorceress replied. “It is a mantle bestowed on the greatest champion of the age by the Goddess of Eternia. Whenever Eternia is threatened, a He-Man shall arise to defend it in its hour of need. And now we must find the He-Man of our current age before all is lost…”

“First we must rescue our king from that villain’s clutches,” interjected a tall dark-haired and impeccably dressed nobleman. “We cannot divert from that necessary task to find one man that we aren’t even sure exists.”

Marlena thought for a moment before speaking. “Lord Tiburon is correct. I cannot allow my husband to remain a hostage of Infinita. While he remains in the clutches of Snake Mountain the risks to Eternian security are far too great. My husband knows a great many secrets that could be used against us in the wrong hands. Before we can even consider searching for this new He-Man, whoever he is, we must march on Snake Mountain and free Randor. And against that monster Skeletor it will take every asset at Eternia’s disposal to do so.”

“You are, of course, correct,” the Sorceress replied. “High King Randor must be freed from Snake Mountain. But even in that task I fear the He-Man’s aid may be required. Snake Mountain is no mere fortress. Its walls are mountains and its dungeons run deep and dark.”

“Then you would have us delay our rescue to find this new He-Man first?” Lord Tiburon asked. “Preposterous! It could take months to find him if he even exists!”

The Sorceress shook her head. “Your armies must, of course, be readied to march east to free the king. But there are others who could undertake the search while you do so.”

“You have someone in mind?” the queen asked perceptively.

“Zoar has already made his choice,” the Sorceress replied. “Prince Adam must embark on this quest to find the new He-Man.”

“Adam?” Marlena asked, her voice sounding small. Her eyes found her son amid the crowd around the chamber and suddenly it made sense why Zoar had instructed Man-at-Arms to take her only son to Castle Grayskull to meet with its guardian. “But he’s just a boy…” she said, though the protest was weak, and she knew it.

“Apologies, your majesty,” said Duncan, ushering the prince up to stand beside the Sorceress. The Man-at-Arms of Eternos also joined them at the table. “But Prince Adam is a man grown and the crown prince of Eternos. He has a duty to protect this kingdom like the rest of us. Would you rather he undertook this quest for the Sorceress or accompanied the armies to Snake Mountain?”

A look of hurt betrayal crossed the queen’s face, quickly followed by a frown. “I would rather my son did neither!” she said frostily.

“Forgive me, Marlena,” Duncan replied, “but that isn’t an option, and you know it. He is the crown prince, and his duty is to his people in this time of crisis. As was his father’s.”

“I can do this,” Adam said. “I have to go.” He kept to himself the rest of his thought process: that he had to go to make up for his poor decisions earlier at the castle. Marlena sighed, defeated. “Very well,” she said, “but I refuse to allow you to go alone!”

“I will accompany him, your majesty,” Duncan said. “He’ll be safe with me. Besides, I’m one of the few people who knew the previous He-Man in person. That may count for something finding his successor.”

“I’m going too!” said a familiar voice, and both Duncan and Adam turned to see Teela walking towards the table. “I’ve been keeping Adam from tripping over his own feet his entire life. I’m sure I’ll be called on to do it now as well…”

“Teela, I-” Duncan began to say.

“I’m sure you’ll be most welcome,” the queen interrupted pointedly.

“If this He-Man will be needed to rescue the king then, as his squire, I have an obligation to find him too,” said Bow, joining Teela at the table.

“Well, I’m not staying behind,” said Glimmer, joining the others at the table. “Besides, this sounds like it could be fun.”

Kowl marched forward to the table, the feathers on his chest and cheeks puffed out in outrage and exasperation. “Absolutely not!” he shouted. “Queen Marlena, I demand you put a stop to this now!”

“I’m the crown princess of Brightmoon!” Glimmer interjected before the queen could speak. “And one day I’m to lead my people to victory over the Horde.” She looked to the queen with plaintive eyes. “I can’t do that if I’ve spent all my life safe here in this palace! I’m no longer a child and it’s time my training stopped being hypothetical. If today has taught me one thing, then it’s that at least.”

Marlena looked between her and Kowl and then sighed. “Very well. I give my permission for you to go with the others, Glimmer. But be careful!”

“Glimmer, no, please!” Kowl begged her.

The princess turned to her tutor and crouched down to his level. “I know you only want to keep me safe, old bird,” she said gently, “but I can’t remain a child forever. I have to learn to be my mother’s daughter.”

“But it’s not safe,” Kowl pleaded, tears in his eyes. “It’s bad enough that Bow is running off on this fool’s quest, but not you too. I couldn’t bear losing the two of you…”

Bow crouched down beside Glimmer and wiped the old Kolian’s tears. “All chicks need to fly the nest eventually, old bird,” he said gently. “You mean the world to me-”

“And me,” Glimmer interjected.

“-but it’s time we protected you for a change,” Bow finished. “If Eternos falls then it doesn’t matter whether or not Glimmer and I are here or anywhere else. Either the Infinitans will kill us themselves or turn us over to the Horde. And I couldn’t bear if anything were to happen to you! You’ve been the only parent I’ve had for almost as long as I can remember and I’m not going to sit by and risk anything bad happening to you!”

“I just want the two of you to be safe,” Kowl said quietly.

“Nowhere is safe now,” said Bow. “If Eternia is conquered then Brightmoon will be alone, surrounded by enemies seeking its downfall, and Etheria will never be free. If we don’t act, then we lose everything.”

Kowl sighed, admitting defeat. “Very well,” he said. “But please be careful. Both of you. Don’t go doing anything stupid!”

Glimmer hugged him. “Thank you, old bird,” she said.

As though suddenly remembering where he was, Kowl sniffed back his tears and drew himself up straight. He looked up at Queen Marlena across the table. “I hold your Man-at-Arms personally responsible for their safety, my lady,” he said firmly.

“As do I,” Marlena responded, casting a frosty look at Duncan. “For the safety of all four of them.”

“I’ll protect them with my life, your majesty, as you well know,” he replied firmly.

“Protecting us is all well and good,” Adam said wryly. “But personally, I’d much rather someone could tell us where to even start…”

The queen could not help but smile, as did Duncan, and the tension between them dissipated with the moment. “That’s a very good question,” Marlena said. “I’ve not seen nor heard of the He-Man since the last march on Snake Mountain when Keldor was banished. After the battle was over, I don’t recall if he even returned to Eternia…”

“Oh, he returned,” Duncan revealed. “I saw him for the last time at the victory festival a few weeks later. He didn’t partake in the parade, but we spoke that night. He told me he was weary of war and wanted to experience peace again after so many years. To me it sounded like a particularly good idea at the time…”

“And then what?” Adam asked. None of his elders had spoken much about their experiences during the Great Unrest. Most of the Eternians who had lived through it were loath to mention it. Much of what he knew had come from his tutors and from history books and journals in the palace library. But they had had little to say about the He-Man as far as he could recall.

“I never saw him again,” Duncan replied. “I assume he returned to his home and settled down peacefully as he had said…”

“And where was his home?” Adam asked.

Duncan and Marlena looked at one another, each trying to remember if the man had ever spoken of his past before becoming the Goddess’s champion. “I think he came from one of the jungle tribes,” Marlena said.

“Yes,” Duncan said, nodding. “That sounds familiar.”

“Which jungle?” Teela asked, hopeful.

Both the queen and Man-at-Arms shrugged. Adam looked to the other old soldiers and nobles around the table but none of them had very much to say, if anything.  
“There is one place the answer may lie,” the Sorceress said after everyone else had fallen silent. “The great library of Castle Grayskull has many books on the many champions who have fought under the mantle of He-Man.”

Adam nodded. “Then I suppose we have to go back to Castle Grayskull and start there. Perhaps we can find out who this He-Man was and where he came from, then track him down.”

Queen Marlena smiled at her son’s sudden enthusiasm for the Sorceress’s quest, and how he was taking the first steps towards leading it. “It’s settled then,” she said. “Prince Adam’s party will accompany the Sorceress back to Castle Grayskull and from there embark on their quest to find the He-Man… While they do their part, I shall call the banners of Eternos and assemble our armies to march on Snake Mountain.”

“Your majesty,” Duncan interjected deferentially. “May I suggest you call on the Masters of the Universe also? I know it’s been many years since they were last assembled, but they may prove necessary in the coming battle if our quest to find the He-Man proves unproductive.”

“You’re correct of course, Duncan,” she replied and gave him an apologetic smile over her earlier frostiness. “They may prove a necessary addition. Thank you for the suggestion.”

“I’m simply doing my duty, your majesty,” he replied. “Always.”

“I know,” she replied.

Orko suddenly appeared floating over the heads of those assembled. “Erm, excuse me, your majesty,” he said. “I have a request to make.”

The queen looked at the court magician with a puzzled look. “Very well, Orko,” she said. “Speak.”

“Erm, I probably won’t be much use marching on Snake Mountain, your majesty,” he said, “but I think I may be able to help Prince Adam with his task. At least, I hope I can. If he’ll have me…”

“Out of the question!” Kowl exclaimed, flapping his ear-wings so vehemently that he lifted into the air unintentionally and ended up perched on the edge of the table. “It’s bad enough that Glimmer and Bow are risking their safety on what may be a fool’s errand but allowing this- this jester to go is totally unacceptable!” He turned to the queen. “Your majesty, please be reasonable!”

“This is not my quest, Master Kowl,” Marlena replied diplomatically. “My son has been given this task to undertake.”

Kowl turned to Adam. “Your highness, surely you cannot be considering allowing Orko to join such an important task…”

Adam frowned. “Master Kowl, didn’t you yourself just call this a fool’s errand?” The prince gave Orko a knowing wink before continuing: “Then who better than to send on a fool’s errand than a fool?”

Kowl puffed up his feathers at Adam’s response, looking from the prince to the queen and then at the others gathered at the table, hoping that at least one of them would speak up for him. For a moment, it looked like Man-at-Arms – the only person who did not seem altogether happy with the idea of Orko’s presence on the quest – might speak up to agree with the Kolian, but the moment passed in silence. Kowl deflated visibly.

“So, I can go?” Orko asked.

“Yes, Orko,” Adam replied. “You can come.”

Kowl suddenly puffed his feathers up again. “Then if he is going so am I!” he said, eyeing Adam fiercely as though daring him to refuse. “There needs to be someone with common sense on this quest. And someone to keep him-” he jabbed a finger at Orko “-from doing anything foolish and short-sighted that gets anyone hurt or worse!”

“Okay,” Adam said, smirking. “You can come along too.”

“Then it’s settled,” the queen said. “Prince Adam and his companions will go in search of the He-Man while I ready our armies and summon the Masters for the march on Snake Mountain.” She rounded the table to her son and took his hands in her own. “Now don’t go doing anything stupid!” she told him. “Be careful, find the new He-Man and then come back safe! Okay?”

“Okay, mom,” he replied, blushing.

Marlena gave him a kiss on the cheek before stepping back to address his companions. “Good journey to you all,” she said. “May the Goddess bring you all back to Eternos safe and sound and may the Ancients bring you success in your quest.”

“And you, your majesty,” said Duncan, giving the queen a friendly hug. “With luck we’ll meet you at Snake Mountain with the new He-Man.”

“I shall watch out for you all,” she said, smiling. “Try not to be late.”


	5. Interlude: Snake Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Randor awakens in the dungeons of Snake Mountain to come face to face with its master...

Randor regained consciousness slowly, his nostrils assailed by the stench of rot and decay. He tried to open his eyes but was greeted only by darkness. Every inch of his body ached, and his mind was fogged by pain and exhaustion making it difficult to think clearly. He could hear the distant sounds of growling and moaning and the more immediate noise of fluid dripping onto bare stone. For several moments he felt panic rise inside him, not sure where he was or how he got there, and then memories of his fight with Keldor – or was it now Skeletor? – flooded back to him.

Memories of his defeat.

The question of where he was became suddenly more urgent, but the panic subsided with his memory of recent events. He knew full well that fear was a sensible response to his situation and knowing that was strangely calming. He just needed to clear his head enough to think so that he could respond to his situation rationally…

He was hanging upright by his wrists, the strain of his bodyweight pulling on his shoulders and elbows. There was a rough wall behind him, which told him that his armour had been removed. The air was not cold, though: it was hot and oppressively close. That quickly revealed his location: the dungeons deep in the volcanic bowels of Snake Mountain.

So Skeletor had taken him prisoner. But that he was a prisoner of Snake Mountain and not his own palace dungeons at least indicated that the palace had not fallen to the Infinitan assault. His kingdom was free even if he was not, which meant there was still hope.

He shifted his position to support his weight on his legs rather than leaving his shoulders to take the strain, and immediately some of the pain he felt began to subside.

“Ah, Randor,” said a deathly cold voice in the darkness. “You’re awake at last.” He turned his head towards where he believed the voice had originated and discerned the red glow of Skeletor’s inhuman vision in the darkness. “I was beginning to think you’d surrendered to the inevitable,” the gloating voice continued in the darkness. “Which would have been a shame. This will be so much more satisfying if you struggle…”

“What do you want, Skeletor?” he asked coldly.

“Isn’t it obvious?” came the mocking response. “I want you to suffer as you made me suffer.”

“If you’ve suffered, abomination, it was through your own doing and not mine,” he replied defiantly. “You’ve brought this fate on yourself.”

“No thanks to you. You would have left me to die, Randor. No doubt my survival has come as disappointing news…” A chuckle like a death rattle followed. “But worry not. You will not be disappointed for long. Your long-awaited reunion with your pathetic father is close at hand.”

“You do not deserve to speak of my father! If he knew what you had become, he would be ashamed!”

“Ashamed?” Skeletor asked angrily. “Do you believe that or is it just what you choose to tell yourself to justify your betrayal? If Miro should be ashamed of either of us it is you, Randor! It was not me who stole the crown of Eternos from the rightful heir to the throne, was it?”

“Perhaps not,” Randor replied. “But it was you who betrayed Eternos, its people and our father’s memory by joining its enemies in seeking our downfall!”

Skeletor laughed in the darkness. “And there it is,” he crowed, “two little words of admission: our father. Miro’s throne and crown rightfully belonged to his eldest son: to Keldor of the house of Eternos, not to his little brother Randor!”

“I never wanted the throne!” Randor spat at him.

Randor heard movement in the darkness and for several seconds the glow of Skeletor’s eyes disappeared. A torch suddenly sprung to life, filling the cell with a light that seemed blinding compared to the preceding darkness. Skeletor stood beside it, his cloaked and hooded back to the king. His clawed blue hand hovered above the torch, the flames almost consuming it. Slowly he turned back to Randor, the bone-white skull within his hood rendered even more horrific in the flickering torchlight. Randor forced himself not to look away from the sight of the bared teeth, empty nasal cavity and hollow sockets. Its unnaturalness horrified him, but he refused to give Skeletor the pleasure of knowing that. Still, looking at the death’s head that was now his brother’s face also saddened him, remembering as he did the handsome man he had once been.

Skeletor returned to his seat by the cell door and drew his cloak around him. “And yet you sit on it, brother,” he said in a whisper like the dead.

“I fought for you to be crowned,” Randor replied, feeling his anger rising. “Your step-mother and our sisters fought for you to be crowned! And yet you ran away…”

“In case you had forgotten, dear brother,” Skeletor said with quiet hatred, “I was framed for the murder of our father’s chief minister by someone in the court!”

“Were you framed?” Randor asked. “Once I believed that to be true, but an innocent man doesn’t join the enemies of his kingdom!”

“How else was I to regain what was rightfully mine, dear brother? When Keldor fled the palace, he had every intention of returning to clear his name. But then what does he learn only a few weeks later? That his younger brother had oh so reluctantly acquiesced to take the throne in his stead. Convenient, don’t you think, dear brother?”

“We were in the midst of a war that threatened to bring our kingdom to ruin,” Randor replied with a sigh. “You were gone. No one knew where. And your Horde friends were attacking us on two fronts from the north and east. The armies needed a leader. They needed hope when they believed that all was lost! So, yes, I took the throne to give them that hope.”

“You took my throne,” Skeletor responded darkly.

“Because you ran away!” Randor shouted back at him, all the anger and fear and doubt he had felt at the time flooding back to him. “What choice did you give me?”

Skeletor laughed bitterly. “No, brother, what choice did you give me? You had the resources of a whole kingdom supporting you in taking the throne. What did Keldor have? Hordak offered Keldor his only chance of getting what was his by birth-right but denied him simply because his mother was Gar!”

“I did not take the throne because of your mother’s race!” Randor told him.

Skeletor laughed. “No, but if it was Keldor sitting here in front of you, Randor, could you look him in the face and say you would be king and not him if his skin were pink like yours and not blue like his mother’s?”

“I-” Randor began, then looked away, red-faced.

Skeletor laughed. “Finally, you admit it, dear brother,” he crowed. He stood and walked across the cell to Randor, stopping with his grinning skull mere inches from the king’s face. “You’ll be pleased to hear, brother mine, that I no longer want your pathetic throne and your insignificant kingdom,” he whispered in a voice like dead leaves. “My vision is somewhat less parochial than yours nowadays. I have grander dreams than one small kingdom on an insignificant planet in a forgotten corner of the universe. My time as a servant of Hordak broadened my horizons greatly, Randor. Why settle for a kingdom? Why settle for a world?” He waved his hand in the air above their heads. “Up there lies an entire universe ripe for conquest.”

With a laugh he turned away from the king and returned to his seat by the door. “Don’t worry, though, little brother. Your kingdom may not be worthy of my reign, but it will serve as an object lesson to others of the consequences of defiance. As Eternos burns and its children become the fuel for my future conquests, the wiser rulers of Tellus will bend the knee to their new lord and master Skeletor!”

“The free people of Tellus will never subject themselves to you willingly, fiend!” Randor retorted angrily.

“Free people?” he mocked. “All peoples will be my slaves or the only freedom they taste will be the freedom of the dead! Nothing can stand in my way now, Randor, and it’s all thanks to you in the end.” He chuckled darkly. “Had you not usurped my throne I would never have become a servant of Hordak and learned the true meaning of power… And if you had not fought my uprising all those years ago, I would never have become Skeletor. You see, dear brother, you made me what I am that fateful day when we fought at the Isle of Wisdom…”

*****

Keldor, son of Miro, strode across the Bridge of the Ancients with frightening purpose, his skull-masked war helm glinting in the sunlight. At his side, Evil-Lyn kept easy pace with him, and behind them followed the black armoured hordes of Infinita marching in lockstep. The bridge surface was littered with rubble and the bodies of Eternian defenders. The bridge’s ancient defences had fallen easily before the flying war machines of the Infinitan forces, opening the way to the Isle of Wisdom and the shining spires of the citadel of the Elders.

Beneath the death-grimace of his skull mask, Keldor smiled triumphantly as his final victory came within reach. Soon all the power of the Elders would be his to command and all Tellus would bow before him. Not even the Horde would be able to resist his conquest. He might even release Hordak from his prison in Despondos just to have his former mentor grovel and proclaim him master.

The great main doors of the Halls of Wisdom drew near – wrought gold plate within a towering frame of luminescent white stone – and he and Evil-Lyn paused before them. “Shall we, my dear?” he asked her, unable to keep the glee from his voice.

“We shall,” she replied, and the two of them summoned the magic to their staffs, touching them and combining their power until it erupted forth and surged against the great doors in ever-increasing waves of force. For a time, the doors and their magical wards held, and then the power they were unleashing began to strip away the golden plate and scour away the metal beneath.

For almost a minute, their combined power surged against the barrier until with a mighty crack it was rent asunder, and the way inside opened before them. The first of the defenders within were swept aside and near vaporised by the power they were directing against the doors, but as their magic died away other defenders charged forward. Keldor and Evil-Lyn stepped aside and from behind them the hordes of Infinita stormed forth to crush the guardians of the Elders for their lord and his mistress.

The guards were quickly swamped and overwhelmed by the surge of armoured bodies and the air was filled with cries of pain and suffering and death. Keldor felt his skin tingle as his destiny came within reach. The Infinitan warriors had soon cleared the way within and he strode through the bodies and discarded weapons into the Halls of Wisdom with Evil-Lyn at his side. Behind them came others of Keldor’s lieutenants, among them the cybernetic swordsman Tri-Klops, the scarred and disfigured Gar gladiator Kronis who would be remade in the years to come as the cyborg Trap-Jaw, the hulking orange-furred Beast-Man, and with them others equally as horrific: the great reptilian Caligar known only as Whiplash, the slimy-skinned Aquatican lord Mer-Man with his needle-like teeth and glassy fish eyes, the blood-red hulking Karikoni known as Clawful with his enormous pincers and calciferous jointed exoskeleton who dwarfed even Beast-Man, the renegade Simbarese warlord Jitsu in his red and gold armour and demonic war helm, and the purple-skinned Silaxian shield-maiden Crita with her whip-mace and fiery hair.

Keldor and his lieutenants strode purposefully down the long hallway of marble and crystal within, and any guards who crossed their paths met a swift, merciless and often bloody end. At the end of the hallway rose yet another grand door, beyond which lay the great central courtyard at the heart of which stood the crystal dome and spires of the council chambers of the Elders. Again, Keldor and Evil-Lyn destroyed the magical wards and broke through the portal and they and the others cautiously entered the courtyard beyond.

“That’s far enough, Keldor,” rang out a commanding voice, and from within the perimeter marble colonnade of the council chambers emerged the young King Randor of Eternos, flanked by his Man-at-Arms and a giant of a man in shaggy fur loincloth, fur boots and steel bracers with bronzed skin, dirty-blond shaggy hair and a matching beard. The giant carried a great two-handed sword with an ornate golden guard that curved hornlike up either side of the ricasso and a glittering blue-green vein of crystal running the length of the fuller. The vein ended at an elliptical hole in the ricasso around the edges of which the crystalline core of the blade shimmered. The hilt was wrapped in soft brown leather between the guard and the heavy gold pommel that tipped it.

“So, Randor,” Keldor called out, “you choose to face me. I must say I’m surprised at your bravery…”

“Leave now, Keldor,” the young king called back. “There is nothing here for the likes of you!”

“Yes, villain,” the blond giant called gruffly, his voice deep and echoing from the walls of the courtyard. “Return to your stinking volcano and learn to be content with its stench and vermin! You shall never rule Eternia!”

“Ah, He-Man,” Keldor responded with a chuckle. “Are you still playing lackey to my weakling half-brother? If I were you, I’d follow your predecessor’s example and leave this tiresome war to someone else. You have no stake in the fate of kings and wizards. Take the sword and be gone. I have no quarrel with you, jungle man.”

“Perhaps not,” the He-Man responded, adjusting his powerful grip on the sword as he spoke as though eager for battle. “But protecting Eternia from the likes of you is not only a solemn duty but a much enjoyed one.”

“It will take more than an old sword to stop me!” Keldor responded with eagerness. “I desire an audience with the Elders of Eternia, and the three of you are in my way!” He raised the havoc staff and fired a blast of magic from its ruby eyes that scattered the three defenders, though only a moment.

“There are more than three of us, monster!” the He-Man responded, leaping forward into the middle of the courtyard in a single bound, and at his words the champions of Eternia, whom the bards called Masters of the Universe, emerged from their hiding points around the courtyard to join the He-Man, Randor and Man-at-Arms: the feathered lord of Avion Stratos jetted down from amid the spires of the council chambers as the armoured bulk of Ram-Man bounded onto the battlefield, followed moments later by the mighty Fisto with his great cybernetic hand, the reptilian Lizard Man and the young scout Orius.

“Three or three hundred, it matters not,” Keldor responded. “You are in my way and I will not stand for it!” He reached up and lifted his war-helm from his head, revealing his noble features, so similar in appearance to his younger brother but for the blue skin of his mother’s people, his raven-black hair and neatly trimmed goatee. He cast the helmet aside and used his magic to spirit the havoc staff to a safe distance, then drew his twin swords. “Come then, brother,” he called out to Randor, “and may this be our final battle!”

At his word, the Infinitan forces charged towards the Masters of the Universe. As Beast-Man, Clawful and Whiplash attempted to overwhelm the He-Man by sheer force of numbers, the others engaged his companions and Keldor charged directly for his younger brother, swords spinning in his hands.

Randor blocked Keldor’s initial dual-bladed strike against the flat of his own blade before using all his strength to force his half-brother back a step. In response, the Infinitan warlord struck out with one of his blades while the other kept Randor’s sword arm blocked. Randor caught the edge of the blade on his armoured bracer and with a twist deflected the strike to the side, then danced back away from Keldor, using the opportunity to discard his heavy furred cloak in the process.

Keldor watched as Randor resumed a defensive posture and deployed a techno-armour buckler on his forearm. He smirked at his younger brother, spinning his swords before leaping forward, his black cape billowing around him. Using his magic, Keldor boosted his jump and spun over Randor’s head to land nimbly behind him.

Randor spun to face him and managed to raise his blade to block the follow-up attack, forcing Keldor to dance back into a defensive posture out of range of his sword. Randor did not give him time to regain the advantage, charging forward and meeting Keldor’s blades with sword and buckler, exchanging blows that would have left weaker men’s arms numb and sluggish.

“You always did think magic could give you an edge, brother,” Randor said with a fierce smile. “No matter how many times I showed you otherwise.”

“What I called magic back then was mere child’s play, Randor,” Keldor responded with a smirk. “Hordak taught me what true magic could do!” He unleashed a battle cry that reverberated around the courtyard as he resumed his attack, his twin swords a blur of motion. Randor fell back, blocking the assault more through luck and muscle memory than superior skill, but eventually he caught Keldor’s blades on his sword and deflected them upwards, allowing him to smash the buckler into his brother’s exposed ribs, winding him momentarily.

“But you never truly understood what martial skill could achieve, Keldor,” he said. “And you aren’t the only one who’s skill has grown since we were young. I’ve fought tougher opponents than you these past years and triumphed!”

“Oh, Randor,” Keldor chuckled as he launched another attack, “you haven’t begun to experience more than a fraction of my power yet!” Keldor’s blades shone with mystical energy as he attacked Randor, emitting flashes of light as they struck the young king’s sword and buckler and sending metal shards flying. As his younger brother blocked his hardest strike yet, the buckler shattered entirely and only Randor’s agility and instincts saved his arm. He fell back, bringing his sword up to defend against Keldor’s next attack even as Keldor released the blade in his right hand and fired a bolt of lightning from his empty palm that struck Randor’s blade and coursed up his arm.

Randor cried out in pain as the lightning surged up through his shoulder and into his chest. His hand spasmed and dropped his blade and yet he found himself incapable of moving as Keldor strode towards him, his magical assault not letting up as he did so. Once he was mere inches from his younger brother the sorcerer-warlord ended his magical attack and reached towards his discarded sword, which floated in the air as though waiting to be reclaimed.

The blade leapt into Keldor’s hand and he turned to strike off the king’s head, only for Randor to fall backwards to the ground beyond the blade’s reach. He did a backwards roll into a crouch and reached up to his back for the twin battle-axes that hung there, drawing them free and leaping forward to his feet with their razor-sharp heads aimed at Keldor. His half-brother blocked with his swords but Randor allowed his momentum to keep him barrelling into the half-Gar prince, unbalancing them both so they tumbled to the ground.

Prepared for the fall, Randor recovered his footing first and flung an axe at his brother’s neck. It missed by mere inches, but the head buried itself through Keldor’s heavy black cape and into the ground, pinning him to the floor. Roaring his rage, Keldor struggled to free himself as Randor stood over him, a wry smile on his face. Randor’s expression quickly sobered, though, as he spoke. “Yield, Keldor, and I promise that you will receive a fair trial for your crimes.”

“Trial?” Keldor spat, finally managing to unclasp his cloak, roll free and scramble to his feet. “You should have killed me when you had the chance!” He had dropped his swords in their struggle on the ground, but now he raised an arm to where the havoc staff levitated patiently for its master’s summons and the weapon came obediently to his hand. Immediately upon his fingers closing around it the eyes of the staff glowed with red fire and mystical energy swirled around the ram’s skull and its golden horns. “It’s a mistake you won’t make again!” he snarled, and a blast of energy shot from the staff towards Randor.

Whether it was instinct or luck that saved him, the young king was not sure, but he managed to somehow duck beneath the energy blast and barrel forward within reach of his older half-brother. He planted his fist firmly in Keldor’s exposed armpit with as much force as he could muster and his brother’s fingers opened in a spasm, dropping the havoc staff. Randor caught the staff by its shaft and tossed it as far away as his strength would allow, leaving Keldor temporarily unarmed. But his brother was already twisting out of reach before Randor had the opportunity to gain the combat advantage.

He moved into a defensive stance with his remaining axe as Keldor finished backing away and turned to him. “I don’t need a weapon to destroy you, Randor!” he snarled, but the way he held his right arm at his side showed that Randor’s punch had done more than just get the havoc staff from his grasp. With his good arm, Keldor summoned one of his swords to his hand and charged. Having trained in dual-wielding as a younger man, that his weapon was in his off-hand offered little by way of advantage to Randor, and the king was still forced to attempt to parry the sword with the head of his remaining axe, falling back to put some distance between them.

“What’s wrong, Randor?” Keldor asked with cruel amusement. “Is the mighty warrior-king of Eternos tiring already? I’m only just getting started!”

Randor glanced around looking for his sword, but their fight had taken them far from where he had dropped the weapon, and even as he backed away from Keldor he saw his brother’s right hand begin to twitch as the after-effects of his armpit-punch began to wear off. What advantage the younger brother had would soon be gone, and once Keldor was able to wield both swords together he would be more than a match for the unshielded Randor.

As if providence was answering, the shriek of a falcon split the air and Randor looked to see Zoar diving towards him. The orange bird carried an ornate battle-sceptre in its talons that the young king recognised immediately as the Sceptre of Power, an ancient heirloom of Randor’s royal bloodline. As the falcon came close it released the sceptre and the king caught it as it dropped. It felt heavy and solid in his grasp, its golden shaft widening towards the top wherein was set a great ruby as big as a man’s fist. The regal weapon was as much a mace as a sceptre, and with its reassuring weight in his hand he ceased his retreat from his villainous brother.

They circled each other warily for several long seconds, the king armed with axe and mace and the warlord with his twin swords. Both men could feel themselves tiring, both men felt sweat trickling down their foreheads and collecting between their shoulders, but neither felt any inclination to surrender. In fact, the grin of battle-rapture on Keldor’s face gave quite the opposite impression, though Randor’s expression remained simply grim and determined.

The moment of stalemate was broken by Keldor, who launched himself forward with a snarl part-rage and part-joy, his swords swinging to claim his brother’s blood. Randor swung the sceptre against his brother’s left forearm, hoping to at least crack if not break the bones. At the same time, he blocked the blade in Keldor’s right hand with his axe. The sceptre hit with a hefty crack and the sword slid from Keldor’s useless left hand. Moments later Randor swung the sceptre upwards, its gemstone head connecting with Keldor’s bottom jaw with enough force to lift him from his feet as his head whipped backwards.

Keldor hit the ground hard on his back, winding him and causing him to drop the other sword. Randor stood over him, his gaze steely. “It’s over, Keldor!” he said. “End this destructive war and send your forces back to Infinita. This great unrest needs to finally end!”

“End?” Keldor asked venomously through gritted and bloodied teeth. “Yes, Randor, it does need to end. But it will only end with you at my feet!” The sorcerer reached into a pouch on his belt and withdrew a crystal vial filled with a sickly green fluid. Muttering under his breath in a guttural tongue, he threw the vial at his brother. It disintegrated in mid-air and the liquid within continued to travel through the air towards the young king, hissing and bubbling in contact with the air. Randor stepped back, raising his arms instinctively to protect his eyes. The ruby atop the Sceptre of Power glowed with previously unsuspected magic and a shimmering red shield formed between Randor and the noxious fluid.

The fluid struck the magical shield, hissing and spitting, before splashing back towards where Keldor lay. Drops hit Keldor’s face, chest and arms and Randor watched in horror as the caustic fluid bubbled and boiled its way into his half-brother’s armour and flesh. Keldor cried out in agony as the fluid ate its way into him, writhing and clawing at his sizzling face.

At the sound, the battle around the brothers fell silent as both opposing forces turned at the howls of agony. “My face! It burns!” Keldor howled. “Curse you, Randor! Curse you and all your bloodline! My face!”

Evil-Lyn used her staff to throw up a magical shield across the battlefield, separating the combatants, before running across to the writhing Keldor. As her eyes beheld the ruin of her master’s face she grimaced and looked away in disgust. “Kronis! Tri-Klops!” she called out. “Help me!” The disfigured Gar and the cyborg swordsman obeyed immediately, crossing to her and lifting Keldor to his feet between them. Evil-Lyn continued giving orders. “Beast Man, summon one of your beasts to fly us back to Snake Mountain! The rest of you clear a path out of here!”

As the minions of Keldor fell into line with her orders, her magic maintained the mystical shield that kept the Masters from intervening and the champions of Eternia could do nothing but watch as she and the others carried the howling and gibbering Keldor from the courtyard and back to the Bridge of the Ancients.

*****

“Even as my servants returned me to Snake Mountain, I could feel death coming for me,” Skeletor told Randor in the dungeon cell. “Keldor was a dead man, but I knew of ancient and terrible magic that no mage had uttered since the great wars. In my wounded state I had no chance of summoning them myself but there was one who could save me if he had the will to do so…”

“Hordak,” Randor said darkly.

“Indeed,” Skeletor chuckled. “He had taught me many things during my time as his apprentice, but I had always known that he kept to himself more than he ever revealed.”

“And what price did Hordak exact for his aid?” Randor asked.

Skeletor shrugged. “That is perhaps a story for another day, dear brother. All that needs to be said is that when your precious Sorceress opened the portal into the Beyond and cast me within there were powers waiting there for me summoned by Hordak. And those powers bestowed upon Keldor a new life.” He reached up to trace his clawed fingers over the bare bone of his skull. “It was an apt transformation; don’t you agree? For years Keldor wore the visage of death into battle to strike terror into his enemies. And now that visage is mine to wear forever, thanks to you…” He laughed maniacally.

“You’ve gone mad, Keldor!” Randor told him sadly.

“Don’t you dare pity me, Randor!” Skeletor spat. “I am more powerful now than any sorcerer since the time of the Ancients. Your Sorceress may have bested me, but I promise you the next time I face her in battle it will be me who emerges triumphant…”

“Powerful you may be,” Randor responded, “but power without restraint or morality can bring nothing but destruction.”

Skeletor laughed again. “Yes, Randor, I know. I am, after all, the Lord of Destruction, am I not?”

“You could have been something far greater, brother,” Randor sighed. “You could have been the Champion of Eternia.”

“And why would I have wanted to be that?”

“You were a good man once. I loved you as a brother and as my future king, and I would have served you loyally.”

“You must be a fool to believe that,” Skeletor gloated. “I am what destiny intended. There could have been no other outcome…”

“You can lie to yourself if it makes you feel better about your mistakes, Skeletor,” his brother sighed, “but I remember the man you once were…”

*****

The Battle on the Plains of Peril had waged back and forth for days. The Eternians held the kingdom of Rondale in the east whereas the kingdom of Califia in the west beside the Seriffin Desert had surrendered itself to the Horde invaders. That the two armies would clash among the dry grasses, stunted trees and parched gullies, which rose to the south into the Mountains of Eternity, had been inevitable, even as the clash of their respective navies amid the Golden Isles off the coast to the north had been. The region controlled the passage from the Eternian Ocean into the Sea of Rakash, and the loss of both kingdoms by the Eternians would have opened the way to a Horde assault on the Isle of Wisdom and the Elders of Eternia themselves, which the Eternians and their allies could ill afford if they were to win the war. And so, the battle lines had been drawn and the plains had become a killing ground.

Thousands had died on both sides, but in the end the Eternians had won the land battle and the Horde had retreated behind the walls of Califia awaiting reinforcements from Etheria. The Eternians knew that they had to retake the western kingdom before those reinforcements arrived and so, rather than fall back to Rondale, they pushed forward. As night fell, the Eternians made camp among the hills to the southeast of the occupied port city and placed their sentries to watch for Horde attack. News had reached them during their westward march that the naval battle was still undecided, with the fleets having broken apart and engaging in small skirmishes among the isles, the outcome impossible to call, and the Eternian soldiers felt somewhat demoralised by the information.

Prince Randor emerged from his tent as Hel-Amun’s last rays disappeared beyond the western horizon and the stars began to emerge from the darkening skies. He had removed his outer armour and donned a padded [arming vest] over his grey-green techno-armour base-layer. He still wore his bracers and his sword sat on his hip in case of attack but washed and with his hair freshly brushed he felt almost relaxed. He rubbed a hand over his stubbled cheeks, wondering if he should have taken some time to shave, but the growl of his stomach soon distracted him from the thought.

“How is that soup coming, Duncan?” he asked his friend, who sat at the campfire within the ring of officers’ tents.

The young lieutenant looked up from the pot he was stirring over the fire and gave the prince a smile. “Almost ready. And not a minute too soon: I could eat a lizard-lion I’m that hungry.”

“But you would eat anything, Duncan,” replied the other man by the fire. He leaned forward, the fire illuminating his pale-blue skin, dark eyes and long silky hair as black as raven feathers. “As you’ve frequently demonstrated.”

Duncan laughed. “Not quite anything, your highness.”

“Really?” Prince Keldor replied, raising an eyebrow. “I’m yet to see you turn your nose up at anything. Even Panthor here is more discerning.” The prince stroked the juvenile purple-furred dylinx lounging beside him, which purred contentedly at the attention.

“Stop teasing your future subjects, Keldor,” Randor said with a chuckle. “He’ll be your Man-at-Arms one day if old Dekker has his way.”

Keldor shifted his position at the fire at his brother’s words and drew his heavy grey cloak around him, even though the night was not yet cold, and the fire was warm. He poked at the fire with a stick as Randor came to sit between him and Duncan at the fire. “I’m ravenous,” the younger prince said.

“That’s why you and Duncan have always gotten along,” said Keldor with a smile.

“Enough chatter,” said Duncan, ladling some of the soup into a large tin cup. “Eat up!” He handed the cup to Keldor before filling two more for Randor and himself, then settled back from the fire.

Randor took a sip from his cup and frowned. “What is this, Duncan? The taste is… different.”

“Probably best that you don’t ask,” the young man responded with a knowing grin.

“Am I going to be dead in the morning?” Keldor asked over the rim of his own cup.

“You may be if you keep insulting my cooking!” Duncan replied with a grin.

“Far be it from me to insult your culinary efficacy,” the elder prince said with a raised eyebrow, and then took a sip. “The taste is very… interesting. What did you say it was again?”

Duncan put a finger to his grinning lips. “I said not to ask. You’ll feel better if you don’t know. Trust me.”

“We do, Duncan,” Randor replied with a tone that said anything but. “You have our complete trust… doesn’t he, Keldor?”

The older prince looked at his brother, then at Duncan. He stroked his hand through his pointy black goatee, his expression inscrutable. “Well, he hasn’t poisoned us yet…”

“Just make sure when you’re king that you don’t put him in charge of the palace kitchens,” Randor warned his brother with a wry smile.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Keldor responded with a smile of his own. “I don’t intend to let him anywhere near the kitchens. Or the pantries. Or the storehouses.”

“A man could get offended by that kind of talk,” said Duncan, feigning indignation. “I go to all the effort of making your supper and all you can do is complain. You can tell you’re a pair of spoiled young lordlings! If I’d said the same to my old ma when I was under her roof, she’d have boxed my ears!” A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Of course, her cooking was so bad it might have been a mercy if she had poisoned me…”

The two princes laughed, and Duncan joined them, then the three of them drank their soup as they stared into the flames alone in their own thoughts. The morning would bring more fighting. The port city of Califia’s walls had been built to keep out the sand of the Seriffin Desert rather than armies and so the siege would be brief. And the street fighting would be bloody and chaotic when it came.

A sudden commotion beyond the circle of tents filled the air, along with the shouts of men and the stamping of horses. The three men were on their feet in seconds, reaching for their weapons before rushing out into the wider camp, following the direction of the shouting men and panicked animals. Within a few short moments that felt much longer they came to the source of the commotion: a circle of guards carrying torches stood around a smaller trio of soldiers. Duncan and the two princes pushed their way into the circle to find an Eternian scouting party there, one of the scouts bleeding from a serious wound to the chest and side.

“What happened?” Randor asked loudly over the general noise of confusion.

One of the scouts looked up and recognised him. “Your highness,” she said, making to salute. Randor waved it away and bade her continue. “Our commander sent us out once the sky was darkening to scout the city under cover of darkness,” she explained. “The enemy must have been expecting it because they had patrols outside the walls. We were ambushed on the way there by Horde troopers. Our sergeant was killed in the initial confusion and my friend here got caught with one of their damnable energy blades. Once we knew what was happening, we managed to fight our way free but my friend…” The scout trailed off and looked away, grief and anger warring on her face.

“It’s okay, trooper,” Randor replied, placing a caring hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need to say any more.”

“Does anyone have a field medikit?” Duncan called out to the crowd assembling beyond the circle of torches. “We need a medikit in here!”

There was no response.

“There’s no time for a medikit,” Keldor said quietly. “Even if we had one the injury is too severe for field medicine.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Duncan snapped angrily, and then instantly looked away ashamed of his misplaced ire. “I- I’m sorry, Prince Keldor,” he said.

“It’s fine,” the prince replied, though his expression only barely hid his hurt. He crouched down with the two scouts cradling their dying comrade. “Please, let me see him,” he pressed them. The two scouts looked from the elder prince to one another, and then to his younger brother. They nodded and moved back to give Keldor room.

Keldor reached out to the injured man and laid his hands over the bloody slash that had almost split him in half. He closed his eyes and reached inside to the power that resided there waiting to be tapped. “Ennanasi badesh chu,” he muttered under his breath. “Sindal kush amec hrol.” His palms of his blue hands began to glow white as the magic responded to his words. “Endanun shol! Endarum varul!”

The white glow spread out from Keldor’s palms along the length of the scout’s injury. “Ennanasi ihro. Ennanasi ihnro,” the prince chanted repeatedly under his breath as the glow penetrated deep into the wound and spread out along its edges. As the stunned onlookers watched, the wound began to heal. Torn muscles and tendons knit themselves together, fat and connective tissues bonded back together, and then the skin itself grew back over the injury with neither scratch nor scar to show it had ever existed. The scout’s pale greying skin regained a healthy flush of blood flow and his laboured breathing eased and strengthened. Within a matter of seconds his eyes flickered open and focussed on his surroundings.

“What happened?” he croaked.

“Easy, trooper,” said Randor, crouching down beside Keldor, his hand on the elder prince’s shoulder. “You’ve been through some trouble but with a bit of rest and recuperation you should be okay now.” He looked to Keldor with a questioning expression. “Right?” he asked.

Keldor nodded, looking suddenly tired. “He’ll be fully recovered with a few days’ rest.”

The woman who had helped carry the injured man back to camp looked up at Keldor with a smile. “Thank you, your highness,” she said. “You saved his life.”

“It was nothing,” he replied. “I’d have done the same for anyone.” His blue cheeks flushed faintly purple, though anyone unfamiliar with Gar probably would not have noticed. His brother did and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Keldor gave Randor a wan smile. “I need to rest for a while,” he said. “Healing takes a lot out of me.”

“Take all the time you need,” Randor said.

Keldor nodded and got unsteadily back to his feet. He felt a moment of dizziness, but it quickly passed as he hid it from the others crowded around the scouts. Turning back towards the centre of camp he made his way back to his tent, every step excruciating.

As he reached the circle of officer’s tents he stumbled and almost fell, but his fall was stalled by a pair of strong arms that held him upright. He looked around to find his brother there. Randor’s expression was concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay?” the younger prince asked.

“I will be,” Keldor reassured him. “Help me to my tent.”

Randor nodded and helped his older brother the last few yards into his tent, helped him remove his cloak and then helped him into his bed roll. “What happened out there?” Randor asked as Keldor lay back against his pillow.

“Magic has rules,” Keldor replied. “It’s a transfer of energies from the magician to the object of the magic. The scout’s injuries were severe: had I not acted he was only minutes from death, but to heal someone so close to death takes a lot of power. It’s why we don’t just take every sick person to a magician. I gave him a fraction of my life energy to restore his.”

“You gave him your life?” Randor asked incredulously.

“Only a piece,” Keldor replied with a smile. “Enough to heal his injuries.” Seeing the look of concern on Randor’s face he chuckled despite his exhaustion. “Don’t panic. I’m a magician. The innate magic of Eternia will restore what I gave up so long as I rest. By morning I’ll be fully recovered.”

“That was a brave thing you did,” Randor said.

“Perhaps,” his brother replied. “But it was a necessary thing.” He smiled mischievously. “Though, if you could perhaps have a word with the camp medics while I sleep so they respond a bit quicker in future…”

Randor laughed, and the sound cheered both brothers despite what had just happened and what would come in the morning. “Good night, brother,” he said with a warm smile.

“And you, brother,” Keldor replied, watching as Randor left the tent. It did not take long for exhaustion and sleep to claim him after that.

*****

“…Evil men don’t risk their own lives for the benefit of others,” Randor told Skeletor. “I was honoured to have you as a brother and as my future king…” He shook his head sadly. “It pains me to see you like this.”

“I told you to spare me your pity!” Skeletor spat. “Save it for your people and for that beautiful wife of yours.” He chuckled darkly. “Most especially, save it for your son.”

“You aren’t fooling me anymore, Keldor,” Randor said sadly. “You may kill me and destroy my family and kingdom, but it will bring you no satisfaction to do so.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” the sorcerer replied cruelly.

“Because you aren’t being honest with yourself,” the king replied. “You have yourself convinced that everything that’s happened to you was part of some grand design of your own, but you’re nothing but a pawn of other more powerful villains. This Skeletor is not what you made of yourself but what Hordak made of you. You’re just a piece on his game board and you’re too arrogant to admit it!”

Skeletor did not respond, his skull-face inscrutable.

“What was the price Hordak made you pay for all this?” Randor asked again. “What did he exact from you to save your life?”

“It was only a small thing really,” Skeletor said with secret dark meaning, then chuckled to himself.

Randor shook his head sadly. “You were always a clever man, brother. Pretend you cannot see how that ancient monster had you dance to his tune all you like, but you and I both know it’s a lie. He manoeuvred you as he wanted to and Skeletor is his creation, not Keldor’s. Keldor would never have ended up here in this place of his own will…”

Skeletor jumped to his feet, the red glow flaring in his empty eye sockets. “Enough!” he shouted, his hands flexing into claws and relaxing over and over, expressing the rage his skull face never could again. “I tire of your worthless prattle!”

“No, Skeletor, you tire of hearing truth!”

“Truth? Truth? The truth is that you will rot here in this cell as your family suffers and dies, and your kingdom and its allies fall to my armies! And when everything you love has been taken away from you, we can again debate who is the master of his own destiny here, dear brother!”

Without another word, Skeletor turned and stormed from the dungeon cell, his black cape billowing behind him as he went. The cell door slammed closed behind him and moments later the torch went out, leaving Randor alone in the darkness. Though no one was there to see it, the King of Eternia smiled grimly in the gloom. His brother was so very lost, but he knew there was still a struggle within him. That struggle may one day prove to be their saving grace…


	6. The He-Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the freedom and security of all of Eternia endangered, Prince Adam and his friends must embark on the Sorceress's quest to find the Sword of Power and a new He-Man...

Man-at-Arms guided the lead wind-raider up and over the crags of the Majestic Mountains as the orange-blue disk of Hel-Amun began to sink beneath the mountains to the west. The brooding keep of Castle Grayskull came into view ahead, standing guard over its haunted valley above the Eternian Wastelands and looking even more menacing in the evening twilight. In the passenger seat beside the Eternian master armourer, Prince Adam looked once again into the death’s head visage of the keep and felt a shiver creep up his spine. Its dark empty eye sockets seemed to glare down over the valley from its high promontory, as though damning anyone that entered its domain to an early grave. “King Grayskull couldn’t have made his castle a little less sinister?” he asked, attempting to mask his irrational fear with humour.

“Castle Grayskull represents no danger to those who do not seek to misuse the power it guards,” the Sorceress replied from where she sat in the rear seat beside Orko. “The fear and anxiety you feel are the result of the magical wards woven into its stones in the elder days.”

“Or maybe it’s the giant skull face over the drawer bridge…?” Adam responded with a half-smile.

The Sorceress chuckled, and Adam found the noise lifted his spirits. She had spoken little during their journey from Eternos, still weak from her battle with Skeletor and Evil-Lyn’s sneak attack, so to hear her laugh was somehow reassuring. “That too,” she agreed. “Did you never wonder why your ancestor was remembered as King Grayskull?”

“I didn’t expect something so literal,” he replied.

“Do we set down in the valley, Sorceress?” Duncan asked her from his seat at the controls.

“As I am with you, the castle will allow you to set down within its walls,” she replied. “There is room enough for landing between the corner towers.”

He nodded his understanding and activated the intercom, contacting the second wind-raider that was following them with Teela, Bow, Glimmer and Kowl inside. “Man-at-Arms to raider two, we’re setting down within the castle walls. Acknowledge.”

“This is raider two,” came Teela’s voice over the communicator. “Acknowledged, raider one. We’ll follow you in.”

He closed the intercom and returned his attention to the controls, guiding the wind-raider towards the keep. As it passed between the five corner towers, he switched the engines to vertical and lowered the craft down to the rooftop. The second wind-raider followed, coming into a landing beside them. The open area between the corner towers was larger than it had seemed from the air – indeed the castle itself felt far bigger than either Adam or Orko remembered from their previous visit – with torches flickering in the breeze on the inward facing walls of the tower. As Man-at-Arms and Adam helped the Sorceress out of the lead wind-raider, the occupants of the other craft glanced around at the mossy green-grey stonework with anxious looks, clearly affected by the magic wards intended to repel invaders. Kowl was so nervous that his feathers were puffed out so much they were practically standing on end.

“Nice place,” Bow said ironically. “Very welcoming and homely.”

Adam smiled, understanding the sentiment.

“It’s strange,” said Teela as she began to unload her belongings from the wind-raider. “But I feel almost like I’ve been here before…” At her words, Duncan and the Sorceress shared a glance full of hidden meaning, though neither spoke.

“Do you spend a lot of time in haunted ruins?” Bow asked her with a grin.

She returned his smile. “You might be surprised,” she told him. “As an officer in the Royal Guard my duty to the people of Eternia takes me to all kinds of unpleasant places… But this feels different. Familiar…”

Man-at-Arms spoke up before the conversation could go further. “We should be getting inside,” he said. “We have a lot of work to do if we’re going to find the Sword of Power.”

“Yes,” the Sorceress agreed, turning to one of the corner towers. “If you would all follow me once you have gathered your packs.”

With Man-at-Arms and her staff supporting her, she walked towards the mossy stone tower. With a gesture of her hand the barred wooden door, flanked by torches, swung open on creaking hinges to reveal the dark interior of the castle, before she and Duncan disappeared within and were swallowed by shadows. Moments later a mystical yellow-green light illuminated the darkness and she gestured for the others to follow.

Teela strode boldly inside, followed by Adam, Bow and Glimmer, the four of them laden with packs and equipment. Kowl hung back, still shaken by the castle’s mystical wards. Noticing his reticence, Orko turned back to him. “There’s nothing to fear, Master Kowl,” he reassured the old Kolian. “It’s all just charms and glamours. I’m mostly certain that there’s nothing here that can actually harm us. I think.”

“You think?” Kowl asked him indignantly.

Orko shrugged. “You could always wait out here…”

“Alone?” Kowl started, looking around at the battlements and ramparts that enclosed the rooftop. He made a rumbling sound within his throat and flattened his feathers down before marching across the rooftop to the door. “I won’t have it said that I let a few spells keep me from discharging my duties as Princess Glimmer’s guardian,” he said. “And I especially won’t have it said that a court jester was braver than me!”

“Good for you,” Orko replied cheerily. He floated aside to let the Kolian enter the door and then followed him inside, the door creaking closed behind them, sealing them inside the keep. “Wouldn’t want people saying you didn’t follow where a fool led you…” He chuckled.

Kowl looked back at him, glaring daggers. “If you repeat that to anyone else, jester, I’ll make sure you jingle your last bell!”

“Whatever you say, Master Kowl,” he replied cheerily.

“I shall go first,” the Kolian said. “You can follow me.” He turned with a flourish of feathers and robes and walked off after the others with an imperious poise. Orko watched him go for a few moments before shrugging and floating along behind.

The Sorceress led them down winding staircases, across hallways that would once have been grand but were now dimly lit and in disrepair, down narrow corridors of bare grey-green stone lit by torches held by carved grotesques, and through multi-level rotunda lined with darkened archways. It seemed impossible that the castle was large enough to enclose all the rooms and passageways they traversed, but Orko could feel the ancient magic of the place and knew that the normal rules of space and time need not apply in the presence of such eldritch power.

As they traversed the vast interior of the castle, the Sorceress seemed to grow physically stronger, and by the time she brought them to a halt in a narrow hallway with wooden doors down one side and a colonnade on the other that opened into the black void of a much larger space she was no longer leaning on Man-at-Arms for support, though she was still resting on her staff. Torches lined the wall between the doors.

“The hour grows late, and I must rest after my battle with Skeletor,” the Sorceress said. “You will find beds here for the night and food and a fire in the guardroom if you are not yet ready for sleep.”

“Thank you, Sorceress,” Duncan replied.

“I warn you to not wander beyond this corridor and its rooms,” she continued. “The castle’s magical wards will seek to lead you astray as they do all intruders, but you will be safe if you do not wander out of sight of this corridor.”

“You should all listen to the Sorceress,” Duncan affirmed. “For your own safety.”

Duncan,” the Sorceress said to the Eternian Man-at-Arms, “could you help me to my chambers? It is time I rested.”

“Of course, Sorceress,” he replied. “It would be my honour to assist.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “My strength waxes, but I must allow sleep and the castle to restore me for the next few days.” She turned from him to the others. “Thank you all for agreeing to this task. Only a new He-Man can stem the tide of evil now rising on Tellus. I only wish there were more that I could do to help you all.”

She took Duncan’s offered arm and, as the others began to explore the rooms beyond the doors of the corridor, the two of them continued down the hallway beyond the torchlight.

*****

Duncan helped the Sorceress to her chambers in the rearmost tower of the castle behind the great throne room. The first chamber was a spacious drawing room lit by magical lights that glittered within ornate glass orbs affixed to the walls amid embroidered velvet tapestries. Tall narrow windows in the curved outer wall let in the last evening light from the valley, while a fire burned in a hearth in the adjoining wall that bisected the tower. Doors to either side of the fire led into other rooms, and comfortable chairs and a sofa encircled the embroidered mat before the hearth.

The Sorceress rested her staff in a stand beside the outer door and crossed to sit on the overstuffed sofa. She sank into it with a sigh, and allowed her weakness to show, no longer using the power of the castle to fortify herself. Her skin turned paler and dark shadows appeared beneath her eyes. Her timeless beauty faded, and signs of age touched her features. “It has been a difficult day, Duncan,” she said tiredly. “I apologise for my appearance.”

“Not at all,” he replied. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

She smiled. “Thank you, old friend. I wish that were true.”

“You look human,” he told her. “Like the rest of us.”

“But I am human.”

“True beauty is flawed and mortal,” Duncan said. “Not the flawlessness of a sorceress.”

“Perhaps,” she replied. “But as Sorceress of Grayskull people have expectations of how they will see me. I must appear strong and unfathomable. Sadly, the truth falls short of the expectation on this occasion…”

“Damn the expectations,” he replied.

She laughed. “How is it you always know how to cheer me?”

“We’ve known each other a long time. I think we’ve come to understand one another quite well.”

“That we have,” she replied with a smile. “Thank you for your friendship all these years. And for taking care of the thing most precious to me.”

“It must feel strange to have her here in the castle again after all these years,” he said.

“A little, yes,” she replied with a deep sadness in her eyes.

Duncan saw the look and sat down next to her, removing his helmet and taking her hand. “She’s grown into a wonderful young woman. A formidable warrior, yet nurturing and compassionate like her mother.”

“I know,” the Sorceress replied, tears in her eyes. “I have watched her from afar as she has grown. I’m immensely proud of who she has become.”

“You should tell her the truth,” he told her. 

She took her hand out of his, shaking her head firmly. “No, Duncan. She must not learn the truth yet. It is not time.”

“All her life I’ve watched her try to fill the hole inside her that your absence left,” he responded. “It isn’t fair to her.”

“And you think there is not the same hole within me?” the Sorceress asked, her tone growing short.

“No, of course not,” he replied, admonished.

The Sorceress looked down and away from him, her shoulders slumped and her eyes closing on her tears. “Duncan, my friend, there is nothing I would desire more than to be reunited with my only child. Nothing in this world could mean more to me. And yet I alone understand the price that she will then have to pay for being my daughter…” She paused a moment before looking back up at him, her expression pleading. “Allow her the freedom to remain just Teela a while longer. I sent her to you for her sake not mine. When she returns to Grayskull as my daughter – which she will when the time is right – everything will change. She is not ready for that just yet. It would be cruel to put such a burden upon her shoulders now…”

“What burden?” he asked her, confused.

“I am not allowed to say,” she told him. “It is the will of Zoar, and of the Goddess, and of the Castle itself, to whom I pledged my service as Sorceress many years ago. It will be revealed when Teela is ready to know of it.”

Duncan frowned. “She may not be my true-born daughter but, when you gave her into my care, I became her father. I should know the truth.”

“Yes, you should,” she replied sadly. “And yet I am unable to utter it. Greater powers than mine bind my tongue on this…”

Duncan’s frown deepened. “Sometimes I wish those greater powers would mind their own business instead of interfering in ours.”

She gave him a weak smile. “As do I, but that isn’t how our universe works. Particularly for those of us who live here on Tellus. The gods created our world at the beginning to guard a great power from those who would misuse it. It is a power that even I cannot fully comprehend, and I am one of those charged with its protection. Sometimes our obligations are bigger than our own needs and desires…”

Duncan sighed. “I understand that, but I don’t need to like it.”

She took his hand again. “No, old friend, but sometimes we must endure our dislikes for the sake of others. It is not fair, but it is unavoidable. I wish it were otherwise.”

“So do I,” he replied with a sigh.

“My love for Teela has diminished not one bit since I gave her up,” the Sorceress admitted to him. “What you must trust, because I am not allowed to reveal it to anyone but her, is that I am keeping the truth from her to her benefit. The truth will not bring her the happiness she might imagine. Quite the opposite. The truth will bring her great pain and sorrow. Let her remain ignorant of it for as long as she is able. If not for her sake, then for mine. I want her to be happy for as long as fate will allow…”

“Okay,” Duncan replied. “She will not learn the truth from me.”

She smiled again, but it was a smile filled with sorrow. “Thank you.”

He did not answer, clearly unhappy with his decision.

“You have done a wonderful job in raising her,” the Sorceress said to him, hoping it might bring him a little solace. “I could not have hoped for a happier or more fulfilling life for her. You will always have my deepest thanks for giving her that where I could not… Whatever may come, Duncan, you will always be her father.”

“I know,” he said. “I suppose none of this is easy for either of us, is it?”

She nodded sadly. “It is perhaps the most difficult thing I have ever faced… but I am glad that Teela has your love and support. And the love and support of Queen Marlena. It gives me a degree of solace in this messy situation. I may be the first Sorceress since Queen Grayskull to bear a child, so there is no easy precedent to follow. I could only do what I thought was best for Teela. If that decision was incorrect then I must live with the consequences…”

“Not alone,” Duncan replied, taking her hand. “You have friends to share your burdens if you would let them.”

“Thank you. That means a great deal.”

“All of Eternia owes you more than it can ever repay,” he continued. “I owe you more than I can ever repay. You gave me a daughter when I believed fatherhood would never be in my stars. To an old soldier like me that was a tremendous gift. For the longest time my life was defined by death and loss, and Teela gave me the chance to live and love again. I would not be the man I am now had you not brought her into the world…”

She smiled. “I am glad. You were always a good man, Duncan. You deserve good in your life. I could not have thought of a more fitting guardian for my daughter. And it cheers my heart to know that you have found room for an unexpected love in yours…”

“You mean Lady Miranda?” he asked, surprised that she knew of his private affairs.

She nodded, smiling, though he detected a trace of sadness deeper down in her eyes. “She is a wise and formidable woman. I can think of few better than she to complete you. And none better than you to complete her.”

“I-” he began, then paused, lost for how to respond. After several seconds he spoke. “Thank you.”

“It is good that there is still a place for hope and joy in the world, Duncan,” she said, her mood lightening. “While there is, no evil can ever truly triumph, and no pain can prove indomitable.” She leaned across and gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek. “And now, old friend,” she continued, “I think it’s time for me to get some rest. We will speak again before you leave.”

“As you wish, Sorceress,” he replied, getting to his feet. “May you rest well.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “For everything.”

Duncan blushed, though he could not have said with certainty why. His friendship with the Sorceress of Grayskull had endured many cycles of the seasons but he still felt somehow as though she understood what connected them far clearer than he could. There was no romantic sentiment between them, but they were closer than just friends. In a strange way he could not quite reason out in his head they were like family, and not just because of Teela.

*****

The next morning, the Sorceress arrived as they were finishing a breakfast of smoked and salted meats, cheeses, preserves and marching bread that they had found in a larder adjoining the guardroom. “Good morning, my friends,” she greeted them. “I trust you all slept well.”

“For barrack beds they were surprisingly comfortable,” said Bow with a wry smile. “Though Adam’s snoring made the night less restful…”

“My snoring?” the prince responded indignantly. “I do not snore!”

Bow shrugged. “In that case there must have been a rather strong thunderstorm in our room last night, Adam. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it…”

Teela and Glimmer chuckled behind their hands, and even Duncan gave a hearty belly-laugh at the young squire’s teasing.

“It fills me with happiness to hear laughter within these walls,” the Sorceress said with a warm smile. “It has been far too long.”

“Do you live here all on your own?” Teela asked.

“In a way I am never alone here,” the Sorceress replied. “The castle itself has a spirit that is with me constantly, and Zoar is ever whispering in my dreams, but if you mean am I the only resident of the castle, then yes. I am alone.”

“That must get lonely at times,” Teela said sympathetically.

“Sometimes,” the Sorceress replied. “But I chose this life freely. It was not forced upon me. And though the burdens and responsibilities of my position are great and many, it is not all sacrifice. I have seen wonders that I would never have dreamed possible in my life before becoming the Sorceress.”

“Still,” said Teela, “I’m not sure I could live here all on my own. I enjoy the camaraderie of the Royal Guard. I know there’s always someone who has my back.”

The Sorceress smiled sadly but remained silent.

Teela seemed to notice her response. “I’m sorry if I upset you,” she said. “That wasn’t my intention.”

The Sorceress’ smile broadened again. “No, Teela, you did not upset me at all. You could never upset me.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt this thrilling conversation,” interjected Kowl, “but should we not be getting on with why we’re here? Finding the He-Man?”

The Sorceress nodded. “Indeed, you should. And if you have all finished your breakfast, I will take you to the great library to begin your search.”

The others nodded, finishing the last crumbs of their meal and getting to their feet. Once again, they followed the Sorceress through the apparently endless and landmark-free corridors, hallways and staircases of the castle until the stopped before a great ornate doorway at the end of a long wide hallway flanked by galleries. She waved her hand before the doors and they parted onto a darkened vault. Its interior was completely black, but the way the air stirred through the doors indicated that it was large and spacious.

“Fe’reyin!” she commanded, and the candles lit within, gradually spreading from either side of the doorway to illuminate the full space from floor to ceiling. The chamber was clearly a library, but its size put even the great library of Eternos to shame. It seemed to occupy several levels within one of the great corner towers of the keep, the walls lined with shelves brimming with books and scrolls, crystals and disks. The upper levels formed galleries overlooking the wooden floor, with a great staircase spiralling around the room as it climbed between them, the balustrades adorned with candlesticks. At the centre of the vaulted ceiling hung an ornate crystal chandelier that caught the light of the candles within it and cast dancing motes of light about the vaulted ceiling, on which was painted a grand diorama of the castle and surrounding valley in their prime: white-washed walls, gleaming gold domes and turrets, and beautiful, lush greenery. Moving figures wandered through the painting dressed in fine clothes and gleaming armour as if reliving the lives of those they represented, and flags fluttered from the ramparts of the castle and barbican, depicting the skull and crossed swords motif of King Grayskull. Directly beneath the chandelier a great wooden reading table stood in the centre of the room topped with candlesticks and reading lenses.

“This is the great library of Castle Grayskull,” the Sorceress announced. “Many tomes contained here are to be found nowhere else on Tellus and have remained unread for generations beyond memory. If the information you seek on the He-Men of the past is to be found anywhere it will be within these walls.”

“How could a tome that hasn’t been read for generations possibly tell us anything about a man that existed twenty years ago?” asked Bow, puzzled.

The Sorceress gave a cryptic smile. “Time and space are not fixed within these walls. The secrets and truths of the past, present and future might all be found here by those with the need to know them. Even I do not know everything that is known to Castle Grayskull. I am merely its guardian…”

“I can feel the magic,” said Glimmer, nodding. “The air is practically alive with it.”

“Not practically alive,” interjected Orko. “The castle is alive! It’s stood here and protected its secrets for so long that it’s developed its own essence. I can almost reach out and touch it…”

“Orko is correct,” said the Sorceress. “Castle Grayskull has become more than just stone, wood and mortar. The magic it contains is a living thing of tremendous power with a will all its own. That is why the secrets of this castle must never fall into evil hands. Were evil to command a power such as that within and beneath these walls then all of creation would stand on the brink of destruction.”

“That’s all very interesting,” said Kowl, looking around the library. “But we’re here to find the He-Man. The sooner we do so the sooner this quest can be drawn to a close and the sooner this castle and its secrets can return to obscurity.” He turned to the Sorceress, raising an eyebrow. “So where do we start?”

The Sorceress returned his look with an imperious gaze. “Where would you like to start, Master Kowl?” she asked him.

“Is there an index for this library?” he asked, utterly unbowed by her glare. “Or any kind of order to its contents? Or must we search every item one by one until the end of time?”

Her lips broke into a smile of amusement. “The index lies there,” she said, pointing to the central table, where a heavy leather-bound tome lay closed within the candlelight.

“Excellent,” said Kowl, following her direction. “Then let’s get started.” He began to cross to the table.

“Allow me,” said Orko, sweeping through the air to the table, his tattered robes trailing behind him. He stopped before the index book, interlaced his fingers palms out, stretching his arms, and then waggled his fingers over the book leaving sparks of gold floating in the air. “Magic tome, magic tome, show me where is He-Man’s home!”

The leather cover opened and fell back against the table with a heavy thud. The vellum pages within began to blow in a spectral wind, turning from front to back faster than Orko could follow, and then began to blow back in the other direction again. They began to flip faster and faster and faster, their rustling filling the silence of the library.

“Maybe we should look through it the old-fashioned way,” Man-at-Arms interjected as he rushed to the table and quickly closed the cover of the book, quelling the rustling pages. He gave Orko a gently scolding look as his hand lay flat on the cover, the pages still wriggling within it.

Orko nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I was only trying to help…”

“I know,” Man-at-Arms replied with a smile. “But I don’t think an index will be able to tell us anything that specific. We need to use it to find other books that might.”

Orko waved his hand over the book, dispersing the magic and the pages calmed within the cover.

Kowl marched towards the table. “Get out of the way, jester!” he commanded indignantly. “This is no time for your infantile magic tricks!”

Orko floated out of the way, his robes shrinking with shame, and the Kolian used his ear-wings to propel himself up to the tabletop beside the book. Kowl glanced up from the book to Man-at-Arms. “Thank you,” he said. “But I can take it from here.”

“By all means,” Duncan replied, removing his hand from the cover and stepping away from the table.

“Now let us see what we can find…” Kowl muttered under his breath, taking a round-rimmed pince-nez from an inner pocket of his robes and placing it atop his beak before his eyes, and then he opened the cover and began to peruse the initial pages.

“It might help find what we’re looking for if we knew more about this He-Man,” said Glimmer. “Man-at-Arms, you fought alongside him. You must know something.”

“Actually,” Duncan began, “I had the honour of fighting alongside both of the last two He-Men. The last was a giant of a man from one of the jungle tribes to the south who went by the name Ullaur. He was a fierce fighter and strong as an ox even without calling on the power of the Sword of Power.” He smiled as a memory came back to him. “And he could drink any man under the table. I remember one time he and my brother Malcolm got so drunk together that-” He paused, looking around the room as though remembering his audience. “Well, that’s a story for another day I think…” After a pause, he continued. “Many thought him a barbarian. And, honestly, in a lot of ways he was. But he was more than just his size and strength. He was a shrewd tactician and I never had to explain any of my inventions to him more than once before he was able to make use of it. He was smart. And cunning… Even Keldor, though he hated him almost as much as he hated Randor, had a grudging respect for him.”

“Is that all you can remember?” Adam asked, disappointed.

“It was over twenty years ago,” Duncan replied. “A lot gets forgotten in two decades.”

The Sorceress spoke. “Perhaps I can add a little more for you to work with.”

“You knew the He-Man too?” asked Teela, surprised.

The Sorceress suppressed a smile of amusement. “Well, I am the Guardian of Castle Grayskull, young warrior,” she said. “The tales of the Sword of Power and its champions have been entwined with that of this castle since their beginning. Among the duties of any Sorceress of Grayskull is acting as guide and mentor to those who wield the sword. Not every champion of the sword has sought such guidance, but a great many have. And Ullaur was one of those who did.”

“Neither of you ever said,” Duncan responded, surprised. “Did he visit you here often?”

“There are a great many of my duties as Sorceress that the rest of Tellus are not privy to, Duncan,” she replied, smiling mischievously. “Would you like me to tell you of them all?”

“I- No, of course not,” the older man replied, blushing. “I’m simply surprised that neither of you mentioned it. We spent many months campaigning together during Keldor’s Uprising. It’s something of a shock to realise the two of you were confidantes during that time and I never noted it…”

“As Sorceress I must keep many confidences and secrets,” she said, “even from those who are closest to me. But, yes, Ullaur and I spoke regularly during his time as He-Man. He sought the wisdom of Zoar often during his labours. The Goddess may choose her champions, but her reasons and purposes are often left unspoken. Her champions must often seek the counsel of other oracles…”

“And did he ever tell you where he was from?” asked Adam hopefully.

She nodded. “He hailed from the Vine Jungle, though it is a vast and untamed wilderness, home to many tribes of both men and beast-men, and I do not recall the name of his people.”

“It’s a start,” said Kowl, his beak still buried in the index. “Do you recall if he ever mentioned any memories of his home? Places he may have visited? Other tribes or enemies that may have plagued his people?”

“His tribe had been enemies of the Enchantress of Castle Fear,” the Sorceress replied. “Which could place their home near the borders of the Swamps of Enchantment.”

“Hopefully not too close to those swamps,” replied Duncan. “I swore to myself I would never return to that place again after Randor and I led Eternos’s army to avenge Old King Miro and sealed that witch away within her castle where she could plague no one any further.”

“Can either of you remember anything else he told you?” asked Bow, looking from Duncan to the Sorceress. “Anything might help.”

Duncan stroked his chin in thought. “Hmmm… I recall he enjoyed mountaineering. He used to spend much of his free time with Stratos and Lady Delora in Avion when we weren’t fighting.”

“But Avion is nowhere near the Vine Jungle,” said Orko, puzzled.

“No,” replied Kowl impatiently, rolling his eyes. “But there are other mountains besides the Mystic Mountains.”

“There are several mountain ranges adjacent to the Vine Jungle,” said Duncan. “Sorceress, do we have an atlas?”

The guardian of Grayskull nodded and crossed to the table beside Kowl. With a barely audible whisper, she summoned a large book from the shelves to an open space on the tabletop and, with a flick of her hand, it opened to the correct page. Duncan joined her at the table, studying the map before them.

The vastness of the Vine Jungle lay deep in the heart of southern Eternia, straddling the equator of Tellus south-east of the Sands of Time with the lands of the great Empire of Simbar to the south. To the east lay the Sapphire Gulf and Orkas Island and to the west the Qadian lands of Felisia. To the north they were bordered by a fork in the Empty Mountains, while in the south-east the Shadow Mountains cut the jungle in two, forming the Tanglewood Forest along the coastline of the Sea of Storms. North of the Shadow Mountains lay the Swamps of Enchantment, covering many leagues within the jungle almost to the coast of the Sapphire Gulf. A third mountain range divided the jungle from the Dust Barrens on the northern borders of Simbar: the Lost Mountains.

“The Lost Mountains, perhaps?” Duncan mused aloud. “I’ve never heard of anyone being foolish enough to live in the Shadow Mountains…”

“They lie on the edge of the Vine Jungle,” the Sorceress replied. “And their proximity to the Swamps of Enchantment would mean any tribes living near them would have been in danger when the Enchantress was in power.”

“Do you know of any tribes near the Lost Mountains?” asked Kowl.

“There are several tribes in the foothills and within walking distance of the mountains,” Duncan replied. “Several of them joined our campaign against the Enchantress, but it was such a long time ago now…”

“I had often wondered why Ullaur left the jungle when he did,” mused the Sorceress. “He said that word of threats to the people of Eternia had reached his tribe and impelled him to leave seeking to defeat those evils… Could it be possible that his tribe heard these ‘rumours’ from the army you led to avenge Miro?”

“That would seem logical,” Duncan replied, puzzling it out.

“But speculative,” Kowl interjected. “There are cities around the fringes of the jungle who would have known of events in the wider world. Your He-Man’s tribe may have heard rumours from there just as easily. We need confirmation from other sources before we risk running off on a wild konseal chase.” He tapped the index. “Let us look for more information on this Ullaur. If it confirms our speculation all the better. But we should be certain not to take a wrong turn. King Randor’s fate – perhaps all our fates – depend on us finding the new bearer of the sword and getting him to Snake Mountain soon.”

“Indeed, they do,” the Sorceress agreed. “And far more besides…”

“Then we should get working,” said Kowl, returning his attention back to the index. “Sorceress, is there paper and ink I could use? We should check as many references to the He-Man as we can find.”

“There is no need,” the Sorceress replied. “The index is enchanted. When you come across an entry you would like to see simply tap the entry three times and the source will reveal its presence to you.”

“Oh, excellent,” the Kolian replied, looking up from the book to the others in the room. “Then as I tap the relevant index entries, I suggest the rest of you recover the sources as they reveal themselves and begin looking for our clues as to where we shall find this Ullaur.”

“Duncan,” the Sorceress said to the Eternian Man-at-Arms, “I fear it is time I rested again. Could you help me?”

“You know you need only ask,” he replied

“Thank you,” she replied. “I grow stronger, but even minor spells such as those I have spoken here are proving taxing. I only wish there were more that I could do to help you all.”

“You have been of tremendous help already,” replied Kowl. “If you hadn’t pointed us in the direction of the Vine Jungle then we would have been searching for weeks. At least now we have something to go on…”

She smiled thankfully and took Duncan’s offered arm, allowing him to escort her back out of the library, the doors closing behind them.

*****

Duncan attempted to retrace his steps to the library after leaving the Sorceress’s chambers. As someone who had been within Castle Grayskull on several occasions previously, he was not surprised that within a few twists and turns of the castle’s interior layout he entered a hallway that he had never seen before, with completely unrecognisable landmarks. The castle’s magic was purposefully deceptive and disorienting, intending to trap invaders within its endless passageways and halls but, as he was no invader, he knew that the castle would take him exactly where he wanted to go. He just needed to be clear of where that was.

And, surely enough, after a few more turns into hallways that he had never seen or spiralling staircases that seemed to descend into the bowels of the castle, he turned into a familiar hallway and was standing outside the library door only a few turns later. He pushed it open and walked inside.

Kowl still stood at the central table, but it was now piled high with weighty tomes around him. Bow and Teela were standing among the stacks on various levels of the great room, while Glimmer stood across the table from Kowl. Adam was slouched in a chair in the corner of the room, his head in one of the hefty books. As Duncan watched, Kowl tapped an entry in the index three times with his forefinger. Immediately, a pale-blue glow appeared on the shelves above close to Bow, who quickly recovered the book from the shelf and held it out over the balustrade railing. Seconds later a purple glow manifested around the book and it vanished from Bow’s hand, appearing moments later atop the table as Glimmer teleported it to Kowl.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Duncan asked as he walked towards the table.

Kowl turned around from the index to look at him, removing his pince-nez and absently cleaning the lenses on his sleeve before replacing it. “Ah, Master Duncan, yes. These books all have information in them regarding the He-Man.” His expression became a little apologetic. “There are rather more than I’d expected there to be,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “If you wouldn’t mind taking one or two and having a look through them. I’m afraid this may take a little more time than I’d hoped…”

Duncan chuckled. “The Sword of Power has existed for 5000 years, my friend. I never expected finding the needle in this haystack would be over quickly.”

Kowl ran a clawed hand through his ruffled feathers. “But we are on a deadline,” he huffed. “We don’t have weeks or months to search this entire library’s catalogue for the one piece of information that we need…”

Duncan patted Kowl on the shoulder. “Then we had better hope for some good luck, Master Kowl,” he replied.

The Kolian’s feathers ruffled even more and the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown.

“I’ve no doubt we’ll find what we’re looking for in plenty of time,” Duncan reassured him as he picked up a pile of books. “Have faith, my friend. The gods will provide. They always do in the end.”

“That’s not been my experience,” Kowl muttered as Duncan crossed to one of the comfortable reading chairs that dotted the library. “Sometimes you Eternians are far too nonchalant,” he said more loudly. “As an Etherian, I find it difficult to be quite so carefree about relying on higher powers to deliver us.”

Duncan frowned at the words, looking up from one of the books. “I intended no offence, Master Kowl,” he said apologetically.

Kowl’s demeanour turned sheepish at the apology. “No, Duncan, I should apologise. I have been nothing but shrewish and rude since we left Eternos. I think perhaps the stress of the situation is getting to me.”

“It’s quite alright,” Duncan replied. “I think we can all feel the pressure of expectation on us. This quest may determine the fate of all Tellus. I should not have been so flippant.”

Duncan was about to return to the pages of his first book when a realisation struck him. He looked around the library as though searching for something, or someone. His frown returned, followed by a look of resigned exasperation.

“Has anyone seen Orko since I left?” he asked, feeling a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

*****

Orko drifted down the endless corridors of Castle Grayskull with no clear idea of where he was going. The castle’s magic made its corridors shift around him and he had no idea where he was or how to get back to where he should be. He had left the library after his confrontation with Kowl, feeling ashamed for the way his magic had gone awry yet again and embarrassed by the way the old Kolian had spoken to him in front of his friends and the Sorceress.

None of them could really understand how difficult it was for him to know how powerful his magic was in his own realm and yet be stuck on Tellus where the simplest of spells backfired on him because of the mental effort it took him to not evaporate into nothingness. He was on one of the most innately magical worlds in the whole of this universe and yet he could barely connect to that magic without it going horribly wrong. How different things would have been if he had not lost the amulet enchanted to maintain his corporeality. If he had his amulet, he would be able to defeat this Skeletor demon almost single-handed and protect his friends and Eternia from their enemies. He could help to liberate Tellus from evil and give his friends the peace and prosperity they wanted. Prince Adam might even be able to grow into a wise and just king without having to fight to protect his kingdom and his future subjects.

Finding his amulet would change everything, but the chances of doing so without his magic were so remote they were not worth considering. He stopped in his tracks as a thought hit him. What if the Sorceress could use her magic to recover his amulet?

As he drifted down the endless halls, he pondered that question. Surely if anything on Tellus could recover his amulet it would be the magic of the Sorceress of Grayskull. But there was a difference between if she could do something and if she would, though he could not see any reason why she might refuse to do so. He supposed he should just ask her and see. If it turned out she could not then he had lost nothing, but if she could and did then Skeletor and his armies had better watch out!

He was so lost in his thoughts that he was not paying much attention to where he was going and, when he finally looked up to see where he was, he was standing before a small wooden door with iron hinges and a bronze lock and latch. He looked back the way he had come only to find a narrow corridor behind him that ended at a spiral staircase. There were no other doorways or arches along the hall, but he would have sworn he had not come up any stairs on the way here. He frowned, annoyed. “Why do you have to pick on me, castle? I just want to get back to the others.”

The grey-green stonework did not answer, not that it could, and nor did the magic that coursed through it and had led him to this rather ordinary looking door.  
“Now I know this isn’t the door to the library, you know,” he scolded the castle. “It was much bigger and more ornate. And the hallway it was on was much grander than this little corridor.”

Again, there was no response.

“Look,” he said, becoming exasperated, “I’m going to open this door and go through, castle, and I’d better find myself in the library or we shall have words!”

He reached for the latch, hoping it was unlocked. It moved easily without resisting and the door swung slowly inward onto a darkened chamber. Orko drifted over the threshold, already certain that the room beyond was not the library. He frowned, silently scolding the castle and its magic again, but kept silent until he was certain where he was. The room beyond was barely lit, thin slivers of dim sunlight peeking in from two tall, narrow windows over which the curtains were drawn, with slightly more light coming from the low-burning fire in the hearth. Between the two windows was the shadow of a large four-poster bed, its canopy and drapes pale-white and ghostly in the half-light. There was a door to one side of the hearth and Orko made towards it with a jingling of bells, hoping it would lead him to where he had been meaning to go.

“Who is there?” asked a woman’s voice from within the drawn drapes of the bed.

Orko froze, silencing the bells of his robes. A shadow moved behind the drapes and Orko almost darted back out the door he had come in as a hand appeared to pull them back. Before he could do anything, though, the woman spoke again – “Fe’reyin!” – and at her command the room was lit by bright mystical lights on the walls.  
Orko watched as the drapes pulled back to reveal the Sorceress of Grayskull. She had removed her magical robes and headdress and appeared to be wearing a plain white shift nightdress. Her braided auburn hair, he could now see, was greying at the temples, and there were faint lines of human aging around her kind eyes and mouth. “Orko?” she said, surprised, as she saw the Trollan floating in the middle of her bedchamber.

“S- Sorceress!” he exclaimed, feeling suddenly as though he were intruding somewhere that he should not. “I- I’m sorry. I seem to have got myself all turned around and can’t get back to where I was going…”

Her smile lit her face. “It’s okay, Orko,” she reassured him. “That is the magic of the castle at work. Though it seems odd it should lead you to me…”

“Well, I was trying to get back to the library,” he said. “But the more I tried to retrace my steps the more lost I became… And then I was just thinking about asking you a question and, well, here I am.”

“Well, that explains it,” she said with a soft chuckle. “The castle’s wards seek to entrap the unwary in its endless hallways and corridors. The only way to find your way is to focus on where you want to go. As you were thinking about me, the castle led you here.”

“Sorry,” Orko replied, his robes shrinking with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to disturb your rest.”

“There’s no need to apologise,” she replied. “I should have explained the castle’s ways in the library, but I was exhausted and didn’t think. There’s no harm done.”

“So, if I want to go back to the library I just have to think about the library?” he asked.

She nodded. “That’s correct. But you must keep your destination foremost in your mind. No distractions or stray thoughts or who knows where the castle may lead you…” She gave him an amused smile. “There are parts of Castle Grayskull even I know nothing of.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, hoping he did not become distracted and lost. “Well, I suppose I’ll be on my way…”

“One moment,” she said, holding up a finger to stop him. “You said that you wanted to ask a question of me…?”

If he had been able to blush, he would have. “Oh, it’s not really important. It can wait.”

“Well, we’re both here now and neither of us has anything more pressing to attend to,” she replied, making herself comfortable on the bed. “Please, go ahead.”

“Well, it’s like this,” he began nervously. “When I came to Eternia, I had an amulet. It helped me to exist here outside my own dimension. But I lost it…”

The Sorceress nodded her understanding. “Yes, I’m aware what happened. You lost it rescuing Prince Adam in the Tar Swamps.”

“That’s right,” he said, excited that she knew about it. “Well, I was just wondering, could your magic find it again?”

She did not reply immediately as she thought over the problem and its implications. “Well, Orko, let me be honest with you,” she said eventually. “It may be possible… but at the moment I fear I’m too weakened from my battle with Skeletor to make the attempt.”

“Oh,” he replied, his robes shrinking inward with his disappointment. “It’s okay.”

She smiled, and it seemed to light the room. “Oh, Orko,” she said gently, “do not lose all hope. I shall not be weak forever. And who knows what the future may bring? 

There may be other magic that could help you even if your amulet remains lost. Keep hope, my little friend.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, yes, most definitely,” she replied. “And as soon as I am rested, I shall do my best to help you find one…”

“Really?” he asked, excited, his robes flaring out with a jingle of bells. “Oh, Sorceress, that’s wonderful! Thank you! Thank you!”

She chuckled musically. “It may take some time to find what you need, my friend,” she warned him. “Do not get your hopes too high.”

“Oh, of course,” he replied, nodding vigorously. “I understand.”

Still smiling, she waved her hand at the other door from the chamber and it opened. “Remember to think of where you want to get to,” she said. “We shall meet again before you and your companions leave the castle.”

Nodding, he floated across to the open door. He paused at the threshold and looked back at her. “Thank you, Sorceress.”

She nodded before allowing the drapes around her bed to fall back into place.

Orko turned and drifted over the threshold, his thoughts focussing on the library and his friends. The door closed gently behind him.

*****

Prince Adam sat in the great library of Grayskull reading through one of the great tomes Kowl had found in the index. It was the second day of their search through the library’s records and still they looked for mention of the one He-Man they needed to know of. He had checked many books already and there were dozens more on the library table waiting to be checked for information on the He-Man. The others all sat around checking through piles of tomes of their own, all of them looking for that one clue that would unlock the mystery of the last He-Man: the barbarian known only as Ullaur.

Adam had so far found mention of several He-Men through the centuries – the He-Man of the North, the He-Man of the Isles, the Berserker He-Man, the He-Man of the Wind, the Serpent Hunter He-Man, even a champion known as the He-Man of Gar Fyrian who must have been from the Infinitan kingdom of the same name – but so far, no mention of the He-Man they were looking for. He had never really considered how many champions of Eternia must have carried the Sword of Power over the last 5000 years, but with each new He-Man mentioned he appreciated more how small a needle they were looking for in how immense a haystack. And as each of these He-Men seemed to bear a different title and they had no idea which title Ullaur had borne the task began to seem even more futile the longer it went on.  
He laid his current tome to one side as he finished checking it for mention of He-Men, having learned only that the He-Man of the West, who had lived 900 years earlier, and the legendary Kartan the Terrible were rumoured to have been one and the same. He stretched to release the tension in his joints from sitting in one position for too long. “We’re never going to find what we’re looking for at this rate,” he voiced his reservations to the others.  
Teela looked up from her book, frowning. “I hate to admit it, Adam, but you may be right.”

Duncan looked up. “We have to keep looking,” he said. “There has to be something about Ullaur in one of these books somewhere…”

“It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Bow reluctantly agreed with the Prince. “It could take weeks and we could still overlook the one crucial piece of information we need.”

Kowl looked up through his pince-nez. “I’m loathe to admit you may be right. Even I am going cross-eyed.”

“Hey,” said Glimmer cheerfully, “we can’t give up yet. The next book one of us reads may be the one that answers all our questions about Ullaur…”

“The princess is right,” agreed Duncan, “we just have to keep looking.”

“Okay,” Adam sighed, “but I need to take a break before getting back to it. My neck is getting a crick in it.”

“Me too,” agreed Bow. “And my stomach thinks my throat has been slit.”

“I would tend to agree,” said Kowl. “I think we could all do with some time to let our eyes rest.”

Teela spoke. “I’m okay for now. If you don’t mind, I’ll keep looking.”

Glimmer and Duncan agreed they were not yet ready for a break.

Kowl nodded. “Very well, but how do we get out of here?”

“Focus on where you want to go,” Duncan explained. “The castle will do the rest. It will try to throw you off by leading you down halls and corridors you don’t know, but as long as you keep the destination clear in mind it will take you there eventually.”

Kowl frowned. “How obtuse.”

Duncan chuckled. “That’s magic for you. You get used to it after a while.”

Kowl seemed almost to smile. “I’m not sure I want to get used to it…”

“The three of you should stay together once you leave the library,” said Duncan. “At least that way one of you should be able to find the way back.”

“Well, I’m with Bow here,” said Adam, crossing to the door. “I could do with something to eat. Let’s get back to the guardroom.”

Bow smiled. “You took the words out of my mouth, Adam.”

Duncan and Kowl exchanged looks, shaking their heads with amusement.

“Always thinking with their stomachs those two,” Duncan said with a chuckle.

The corners of Kowl’s mouth lifted into a smile either side of his beak. “However, on this occasion, Master Duncan, I think I agree with them…”

Adam and Bow were already out of the door by the time Kowl had finished taking his leave, and the Kolian shook his head before spreading his ear-wings and taking to the air. With a few beats of the flying appendages, he had caught up to them and landed on Bow’s back. “If the two of you can’t wait for your elders to keep up,” he mock-chided them as he folded his ear-wings and adjusted his grip on Bow’s cloak to get better purchase, “then by the ancestors you can carry me.”

“Okay, you old bird,” Bow replied with a smile.

“Now remember what Duncan said,” Kowl instructed them, “think about where we want to go and trust the castle to take us there.”

“Don’t worry,” Adam replied as his stomach rumbled. “My belly isn’t going to let my head forget what we’re looking for.”

They continued down the dimly lit hallway outside the library until it turned a corner and ended at an archway. Passing through, they found themselves in a narrow winding corridor that eventually opened onto a vast hall then down a spiralling staircase before crossing another hall and turning into the familiar corridor they had been staying on during their time in the castle, with the guardroom at one end and their bedrooms beyond it.

Adam opened the guardroom door and crossed over the threshold. Pale light streamed in from the valley through an archway in the outer wall that led out onto one of the lower ramparts of the keep. In ages past, he imagined archers would have been posted here to defend the castle from invaders. There were cupboards along one wall and weapons racks on another, and a large wooden table with drawers in it in the centre. Another door led into the guardroom larder.

As Bow entered the room behind him, Kowl dropped down from his back and crossed to the table, using his wing-ears to propel him up onto its surface where he began to pile up the dirty dishes and plates they have left over from breakfast. “Bow my boy, get some fresh crockery from the cupboard.”

As Bow crossed to the cupboards and brought out fresh plates, he mused aloud. “Have you noticed the Sorceress hasn’t eaten yet since we arrived? We’ve had, what, five meals here and she hasn’t eaten with us once.”

“Perhaps the Sorceress has her own kitchen,” Adam mused as he finished lighting the candles.

“Perhaps she doesn’t eat at all,” replied Bow. “Have you noticed how her strength has returned since we’ve been at the castle? I wouldn’t be surprised if the magic alone keeps her fit and healthy.”

Adam frowned. “That must be dull. So many flavours in the world and you don’t get to try any of them…”

Kowl chuckled. “Now, now, young prince,” the Kolian said, “the Sorceress may or may not need to eat, but her magic no doubt gives her senses that the likes of us can only dream of. Perhaps not tasting food is a trifling price to pay for what she gains from the magic…”

“I’ll choose food over godlike magic any day,” Bow joked, crossing to the larder to prepare their meal.

Adam smiled at his friend’s words as he crossed to where Kowl stood at the table.

“How are you fairing, Prince Adam?” Kowl asked. “It must be a challenging time for you.”

Adam’s smile faltered. “I’ll be okay,” he replied. “Once my dad is back home where he should be, I’ll be fine.”

Kowl nodded, patting the prince’s arm. “We’ll find this He-Man. And he and the Masters of the Universe will storm Snake Mountain and rescue the High King.”

Adam smiled weakly. He wished the others knew what their quest was really about: the “new He-Man” was right in front of them. He just needed to find the sword. Whether he would then be storming Snake Mountain to free his father, though, remained to be seen. He could not imagine himself doing it. And the more he read about the He-Men of the past the less he felt he measured up…

“I’m sure they will,” he replied, but he could not make himself sound any more certain of it than he felt.

Kowl patted his arm again, eyeing him with sympathy. “I wish I could do something to make you feel better, Adam. I wish I had the power to make all of this just a bad dream for us all… but I’m only a simple old Kolian who’s seen more than enough loss and suffering. And it seems like fate just keeps piling on more and more as the years pass… But even in the dark times there is still light to be found. The Horde destroyed my home and conquered my land, but even that pain brought joy with it in the end: if not for the Horde then a young orphan boy would never have entered my life and changed it forever. And Bow has brought me far more joy than the Horde have taken away… Whatever happens over the coming weeks and months, do not lose track of the good in the world, my young prince. However ugly the world may begin to look, take special note of the small moments of beauty that come your way.”

Adam smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will,” Kowl said, returning the smile.

“Am I interrupting a moment?” said Bow, and they turned to see him standing at the larder door, his arms laden with food, a quizzical look on his face.

Adam and Kowl exchanged a look before Kowl spoke. “Not interrupting at all, my boy,” he said jovially. “Bring that food over to the table. Five meals from that larder and still it seems to never empty.”

“Oh, there’s plenty to eat in there if you don’t expect it to be fresh,” the Etherian squire replied, crossing to the table and depositing the jars, pots, joints and rounds of cheese onto it. “Pickled fruits and vegetables, smoked and salted meats, cheeses, grains and flour, salt, even some butter. And a shelf of marching bread as hard as Adam’s skull but not spoiled. I can continue to rustle us up enough hearty meals for several days at least…”

“Marching bread?” Adam asked.

Bow grinned. “The royal scouts take it on missions with them. Don’t think of it so much as bread as edible rocks with the texture of sawdust. But perfectly nutritious. And it doesn’t go mouldy as long as it’s kept dry.”

“Well,” Kowl said, “if the two of you would excuse me a moment, my stomach is demanding I find some of this bounty for myself.” The Kolian flapped his ear-wings and propelled himself off the table to the flagstone floor before disappearing into the larder.

“I heard what you were talking about,” Bow said as soon as the bird was out of earshot. “We’ll free King Randor with the He-Man’s help just like Kowl said.”  
Adam looked away and mumbled a wordless acknowledgment, guilty that he could not tell one of his best friends the truth.

“Adam, what’s wrong?” Bow asked. “I know you well enough to tell that something is eating at you. You’ll feel better if you get it off your chest.”

Adam turned to him, and for a moment he almost told his friend what was bothering him. But no. The Sorceress had told him that to do so would only endanger those he cared about. And he was not entirely sure he wanted them to know: he wanted to stay as Adam and not have everyone look to him as the He-Man with all the expectations that would come with it. “Really, I’m fine,” he said.

Bow frowned but did not push the issue. “Okay, Adam, but I’m here if you change your mind.”

Adam smiled weakly. “Thanks, Bow. I suppose I’m just worried about my dad.” That much, at least, was true. “We’ve not really seen eye to eye since I was a boy. And I feel like maybe I’ll never get the opportunity to change that now… The thought of him dying believing I’m a disappointment…”

Bow looked up at Adam with a sad frown on his face. “Adam… The king loves you, you big idiot.”

“I know, but he doesn’t respect me.”

Bow shook his head. “No, he does. You’re quite different men and that makes you bash heads more than either of you would like, but your dad loves and respects the man you’ve grown into.”

Adam gave a humourless chuckle. “Well, I wish he’d say so.”

Bow shook his head in disbelief. “You know the two of you are more alike than you would think,” he said. “You’re both too stubborn and self-doubting to see how much you think of each other.” Bow hooked the prince around the back of the neck with his hand and pulled his face close. “Trust me on this, Adam. Your father thinks the world of you. Both your parents do. You’re incredibly lucky to have that in your life. Don’t let it fall by the wayside because you’re too pig-headed to see it…”

He released the prince and returned to preparing his meal. Adam was too stunned to reply, and after a few seconds Bow spoke again, though this time his eyes stayed on the table. “I’d give anything to have parents like yours…”

Adam felt like he had been punched in the gut at his friend’s admission. It was no secret that Bow’s parents had been killed by the Horde when he was very young, but Adam did not remember him having ever even alluded to his birth parents in all the time they had known each other. His admission of envy was the closest he had ever come to mentioning them, at least to Adam.

“Bow, I-” he began to say.

“Don’t,” Bow interrupted. “Let it lie.”

Adam nodded. “Okay.” He looked away, not sure what to say or if he should say anything. So instead, he set about slicing some meat off one of the salted joints from the larder.

“Adam,” Bow said after several uncomfortable seconds, not looking up from the cheese he was slicing, “don’t think I’m angry with you. I’m not. Frustrated a little that you can’t see what you have, but not angry. Just, when this is all over, at least try to make things better with your dad. You never know when you may no longer have the chance to make up…”

Adam did not look up either, worried the tears stinging his eyes might show. “I will,” he said feeling a strange mix of sadness, grief and shame.

“I hope you two are getting along,” said Kowl cheerily as he came out of the larder with two boules of marching bread in his arms. As he reached them, he passed the bread to Bow before flying up to the tabletop. His golden eyes looked from Bow to Adam and back again, narrowing suspiciously at their expressions. “Have you two been arguing?” he asked.

They both denied the claim, Adam adding, “Bow and I were just talking about the king.”

“Well, that explains your maudlin expression, young prince,” the Kolian replied. He turned his gaze on his ward. “But not why you look miserable. What’s wrong, my boy?”

“Please, old bird, just leave it,” Bow replied. “I’ll be fine.”

For several second Kowl eyed them both suspiciously before speaking. “I hope so.” He put a paw softly on his ward’s arm. “If you’d like to talk later, I’m here to listen.”

Bow managed a weak smile. “Thank you, old bird,” he replied sadly. “But I’ll be okay.”

Kowl patted his arm gently before turning his attention to the food they had gathered from the larder. “Now let’s eat,” he said cheerily, “and leave our worries for later.”

*****

Snake Mountain’s blackened volcanic peaks were bathed in the violet twilight of Serenia above the Fire Plains of Infinita. Behind the twin peaks lay a great volcanic caldera that formed one end of the smoking Black Mountains, filled with a roiling blood-red lake that was heated by the magma rising from beneath to fill the caverns and lava tubes under the mountains. Between the twin peaks, the lake water cascaded over the edge of the caldera as the steaming Blood Falls, before cascading away to the north-east as the noxious Blood River that eventually meandered across the Plains of Woe to empty into Venom Lake to the south-east. Within the walls of the caldera was coiled the body of a titanic stone serpent that legend claimed was the imprisoned form of the dark snake god Serpos, bound to Snake Mountain by the Elders thousands of years before. It was said that the serpent had once had three heads – two that had been bound coiled around the twin peaks and the third rearing up above the Blood Falls – but two had long since crumbled to dust, leaving just the third coiled around the tallest of the twin peaks beneath Snake Mountain’s observatory. A stream of lava vomited forth from the open jaws of the serpent’s head, plummeting down to the Fire Plain below and burrowing deep into the ground before re-emerging as one of the many open lava tubes that cut across the plains as immense canyons.

Evil-Lyn dwelled in a stone tower that rose from the walls of the caldera north-east of the twin peaks, its cyclopean walls carved with the ram-headed image of the ancient god Zal. Though she had long ago bound her destiny to the lord of Snake Mountain – indeed, some even called her the Sorceress of Snake Mountain – she trusted few of her allies enough to sleep in their presence, and thus in the years of Keldor’s banishment she had used Infinitan labour and her own magic to raise the tower as her personal demesne. She kept her private chambers on the upper level of the tower, while its lower levels were designed as a deadly labyrinth whose only access was a mystic gate deep beneath the mountains that connected to the labyrinthine tunnels under Snake Mountain.

The witch lay sleeping on a bed of silks and furs, her ivory skin and short snowy-white hair turned yellow orange by the torchlight that illuminated the bedchamber. The doors were barred and guarded by a pair of purple-skinned Silaxian women armed with wicked curved swords, the only inhabitants of Infinita that Evil-Lyn trusted to protect her as she slumbered. The witch murmured in her sleep, dreaming, and began tossing and turning as the dreams grew stronger. Her muttering grew louder and more intense as the dream unfolded, and then she sat bolt upright, her amethyst eyes opening wide and turned blood-red by the torchlight.  
“Ahte vek zo hevlat mey!” she shouted out, still gripped by the dream.

Slowly she was freed from the visions of her dream and looked around the room, realising where she was. The two Silaxian guards had barely reacted, which was exactly as Evil-Lyn had trained them. “What were you showing me?” she muttered to herself, rubbing her face. “I must know!”

She climbed from the bed, pulling on a slender black silk robe that tied at the waist, and crossed to the black stone pedestal beneath the chamber window. Its upper surface was concave, and within the depression sat a pool of water. She picked up a curved metal claw that lay on the edge of the water and placed it over her left index finger, then drew the sharp edge across her right palm. Blood welled from the incision and she plunged her bleeding palm into the crystal-clear water.  
“Show me!” she commanded as her blood mingled with the water.

Her eyes began to glow green and she jolted as though someone had struck her across the face. She was consciously unaware of this, though, as visions flooded her mind.

She saw the Sorceress of Grayskull standing before the heirs to Eternos and Brightmoon, along with the Man-at-Arms of Eternos and others of the Eternian royal court.

The vision changed to a tangled jungle of ancient temples and forgotten cities.

It changed again to reveal a mountain of a man, blond haired and bearded dressed in animal hides. “He-Man!” she said, the name like a curse on her lips.

The vision changed again to show a great two-handed sword with an ornate golden guard and crystalline fuller, the hilt wrapped in leather and an empty space in the ricasso. “The Sword of Power!” she exclaimed.

The vision changed again, showing a shadowed male figure wielding the sword, as tall and muscular as the He-Man she had already seen, but she could tell it was not him.

And then the visions faded, and she stumbled back from the basin, pulling her hand free of the water. “A new He-Man,” she said to herself, but it was almost as though the words came unbidden. “No! Not now! Not yet!” she continued, as though only now realising what she had said. “Not when I am so close!” Turning back into the room, her face like thunder, she crossed hurriedly to her wardrobe and began to dress.

*****

Orko turned a corner in Castle Grayskull and found himself back on familiar territory as he had expected. While the others had spent most of their time over the last two days at the great library looking for information on the previous He-Man, he had spent part of that time wandering the castle. Since the workings of its magic had been revealed to him, he had been testing that magic to see exactly how it worked, and he now felt he understood it enough to make use of it, helping with their quest. Up ahead the ornate wooden doors to the library were right where he expected them to be. “Thank you, castle,” he muttered as he drifted to the waiting doors and turned the handle to open them.

The others glanced up from their books as he entered. Teela gave him a curt nod of the head before returning to her reading. Duncan eyed him as he drifted over to the central table, an inscrutable look on his face. “I hope you haven’t been getting into any mischief,” the Man-at-Arms finally said as Orko reached the table.

“Mischief?” Orko replied. “Me? Never.”

Duncan frowned. “No, of course not,” he said, but could not quite keep a twinkle of amusement from his eyes.

“Any luck finding where our He-Man came from?” the magician asked as he looked at the piles of heavy books and scrolls that were piled high on the table and beside their reading chairs.

“Not yet, Orko,” Bow replied with a tone of frustration. “Why don’t you grab yourself a book and give us a hand?”

“Well, about that,” he replied nervously. “For the last couple of days, I’ve been testing the magic of this castle to see how it works, and I think I have an idea how to find the information we need.”

“Not more magic, I hope,” Duncan said with a resigned sigh.

“Well, yes and no,” he replied, his robes shrinking in close around him.

“Yes and no?” Kowl asked, confused and annoyed. “Please, Orko, don’t do anything rash…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Orko replied timidly. “I promise there’ll be no magic from me. But I think magic is what we need…”

Adam looked up from his book and gave him a look that was both puzzled and yet hopeful. “You lost me, Orko. Care to try that again?”

“Me too,” said Teela, looking back up at Orko with an expression as equally puzzled as the prince’s.

“Then perhaps we should give him a chance to explain without interrupting,” said Glimmer. “Go ahead, Orko. What are you thinking?”

“Thank you, princess,” he said cheerily. “When I was on my way back here the first time after I got lost, I got to thinking about the magical wards within Castle Grayskull itself. The castle’s magic is designed to keep intruders from finding what they’re looking for, right?”

Duncan spoke. “Yes, but I don’t see-”

“No, wait,” interrupted Glimmer with a smile for Orko, “I think he’s onto something. Let him finish.”

Duncan gave her a surprised look but shrugged and indicated for Orko to continue.

Orko gave Glimmer a nod of thanks before continuing. “The magic that permeates the castle makes anyone who isn’t clear about what they’re looking for wander around in circles lost and bewildered. You have to clearly focus on what you want to get to where you want to go.”

“That’s what the Sorceress told us,” agreed Kowl. “But how does that help us find information about the He-Man?”

“Well,” Orko said, fidgeting with his gloves. Perhaps it was a silly idea after all, and he had wasted all their time. He glanced over at Glimmer and she gave him a reassuring smile and nod to continue. He returned the nod and straightened himself up, but his robes remained drawn in by his anxiety. He cleared his throat – an affectation he had picked up from the Eternians rather than a biological need – before explaining. “We’re still within the castle here in the library, so it stands to reason the wards that cause intruders to become lost in the corridors and hallways are still active in here, right?”

“That sounds logical,” Duncan agreed, surprising them both.

“So, what if we can’t find the book we’re looking for because we aren’t being clear on what we want to find?” Orko asked them. “What if the same means of getting around the magic outside the library works inside the library?”

Teela seemed to catch up with his train of thought. “So, we need to focus on the He-Man and we’ll find the right book?”

“Not just the He-Man,” replied Orko. “Focusing on the He-Man got us all these dozens of books and scrolls but how many different He-Men do they mention?”

“At my last count, about seventy,” Teela sighed.

“By mine fifty,” agree Glimmer, “and none of them overlapping with the ones Teela has read about.”

“Exactly,” the little magician responded, his tone triumphant. “We need to be more specific. It’s not the He-Man – or He-Men – we need to be focussing on but Ullaur. It’s information about him that we’re looking for. Not about the He-Man.”

Duncan smiled. “Orko, I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but you may be onto something!”

“Really?” Orko asked, his robes billowing out around him.

“Very possibly,” the Man-at-Arms replied. “We should give it a try.”

“No,” said Glimmer with a warm smile. “Orko should give it a try.”

“Me?” he asked, surprised.

“Well, it was your idea,” the princess replied.

“Well, okay,” Orko said, stuttering a little with nervousness. “Castle, don’t fail me now,” he muttered under his breath, before closing his eyes and thinking of Ullaur, the jungle barbarian. Luckily, the magic had not required a mental image to lead him back to the library, just that he focused on the library, and so he did the same now. “Show me where Ullaur came from, castle,” he asked.

And then he opened his eyes and floated towards the piles of books on the tabletop, still concentrating on finding Ullaur. He put out a hand towards one of the heavy tomes, only to feel a sudden urge to take a different one instead. Drawing it out from the middle of one of the piles with a flick of the wrist, he took it in his hands and returned to the reading stand where the library index lay.

He laid the new book out on the stand and opened the cover. “Okay,” he mumbled, waving his palms over the front page, “ancient castle, ancient castle, find me Ullaur without any hassle!”

The pages began to flip over in a blur until they landed on a particular page. The page to the left of the spine showed a painting of a mountain of a man with shaggy dirty blond hair and a beard wearing a brown fur loincloth and matching fur boots. Silver and gold bracers encircled his wrists, matching the belt at his waist, and a silver and gold bandolier held a sword on his back, the hilt of which was just visible over his right shoulder. The facing page was text in modern Eternian, at the start of which was a heading: The Jungle He-Man.

Orko looked at the pages and his eyes widened. “Erm, guys, I think it worked.”

As the others gathered around the reading stand behind Orko, the magician began to read. “They called him the Jungle He-Man. He was born in the Vine Jungle in the foothills of the Lost Mountains and grew up during the dark reign of the Enchantress over the jungle.”

“Does it say who his people were?” Teela asked impatiently.

“Hold on,” Orko responded, “I’m getting there.” His eyes scanned the text for the details they needed. “A-ha!” he exclaimed. “It’s here! Right here!”

“Well done, Orko!” Glimmer congratulated him with a smile.

“Ullaur was of the tribe of the Fantus,” the magician revealed.

“The Fantus?” asked Bow. “Who are the Fantus?”

Orko read further ahead before turning the page, where a new heading indicated the beginning of another unrelated chapter. “Erm… It doesn’t actually say.”

Teela let out an exasperated sigh. “So basically, we’re no further along…”

Duncan shook his head, a smile on his face. “No, Teela. We have all the information we need.”

“You know where this tribe is?” asked Orko, turning to him.

“I have an idea, yes,” the Man-at-Arms replied. “The Fantus were one of the tribes that aided King Miro’s campaign in the Swamps of Enchantment. The tribe wasn’t nomadic so should still be living where we encountered them back then. We can find them…”

“So when do we leave?” asked Teela.

Duncan stroked his chin. “In the morning. I’d like to speak to the Sorceress before we set off. And I think we could all do with another good night’s sleep while we have the chance.”

*****

Evil-Lyn hurried through the tunnels that led from her tower to the passageways within the twin peaks of Snake Mountain, her staff raised and illuminating her way with its sickly green light. As she passed the threshold of Snake Mountain proper, she slowed herself on purpose to avoid giving any impression that she was troubled to any of its denizens who might note her passage: it would not do to imply any sign of possible weakness to Skeletor’s henchmen, many of whom envied her position as their master’s right hand. She made her way to the throne room of the evil fortress as fast as she could without seeming to be hurrying there.

She entered the dimly lit throne room and looked across to the raised throne. It was unoccupied and, at the foot of the dais, the great dylinx Panthor who rarely left his master’s side was also absent. She resisted the desire to sigh with annoyance, still wary of who might be watching. Since his return as the being Skeletor, she had not yet seen her master sleep. Even in the aftermath of his defeat by the Sorceress he had not taken to his bed, instead dividing his time between brooding in his throne and tormenting the captive Eternian king in the dungeons. His absence from the throne room likely implied he was once again with Randor. His obsession with the man who had been his half-brother eluded her understanding. With all the power he now possessed after his transformation in the Beyond, to waste his time brutalising Randor when he could be crushing the resistance of the Eternians seemed an unnecessary distraction from their goals.

She was about to turn and descend to the dungeons to find him when she heard a low growl behind her. She turned to see Panthor pad through the entrance to the throne room, his green eyes looking at her and his rippling purple fur almost black in the dim light. He padded across the room and lay down at the foot of the dais as Skeletor followed him into the room.

“Ah, Evil-Lyn, I would have expected you to be sleeping soundly at this hour,” the warlord said. “What brings you prowling about my throne room, hmm?”

“I have had a vision, my lord,” she replied, bowing to him.

“A vision?” he asked, his tone changing to one of interest. “Please, my dear, tell me more…”

She waited for him to reach his throne before speaking. “I believe our enemies are moving against us.”

He chuckled darkly. “But of course they are. The dear queen has already called her banners in preparation for marching on Snake Mountain. This is not news, my dear.”

“You misunderstand me,” she replied tersely. “I have seen a vision of the young prince of Eternos and your old friend Duncan meeting with the Sorceress of Grayskull. I was also shown the Sword of Power, and our old enemy the He-Man… But my vision also showed me the sword with a new champion…”

“A new He-Man?” Skeletor shouted, leaning forward in his throne, his hands crushing the two skulls that formed the ends of its arms into bone fragments. “Who was this He-Man?”

“My vision did not reveal his identity. But it seems clear that Duncan and the royal brat have been charged with finding him and bringing him into the fight against us.”  
Skeletor’s sockets glowed fiery red. “That cannot be allowed to happen! We cannot allow the Sword of Power to be wielded against us, Evil-Lyn!”

“Indeed,” she agreed.

He got to his feet and descended from the throne, crossing the throne room towards her. He stopped inches from her, his eyes still glowing menacingly. He lifted her chin to meet his gaze and spoke, his voice a menacing whisper. “Find them, Evil-Lyn! Assemble your hunters. Find them and destroy them.”

Her lips curled into a cruel smile. “As you command, my lord.”

“But bring the Sword of Power to me,” he added. “With its power added to my own I will be unstoppable!”

She bowed her head obediently. “As you wish. Do you have any preference for who I take with me?”

“None. Take whoever you need. Just do not fail me!”

She nodded again, before turning and striding from the throne room, her cloak billowing behind her. Time was of the essence. The longer she delayed the more likely their enemies would succeed in finding the new He-Man, and then she would face the ire of her master. Even in his weakened state she felt reluctant to test his power against her own.

Though, if she were able to secure the Sword of Power for herself, perhaps it would be worth putting their relative power levels to the test…

A dark smile curled her lips.

*****

Man-at-Arms woke early with only the faintest sliver of dawn light creeping through the narrow window of the small bedroom he had slept in. He got up and washed himself in the basin in the corner of the room before donning his armour and equipment. He clipped his helmet to his belt across from his and fastened his greying topknot in front of the mirror, looking at the spreading wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.

Age, he had to admit, was catching up on him. Maybe it was time he passed the baton of Man-at-Arms to a younger man and settled down to an early retirement. He mused a moment on growing old with Lady Miranda in a cabin in the foothills of the Mystic Mountains, letting the problems of Eternia pass to the next generation. But it was idle musing: he could not retire while his best friend and king needed his support. Nor while the young prince and his daughter faced a future so uncertain and dangerous. Adam and Teela would both need him around for a few years yet to guide them down the right path.

He turned to leave the room and made his way to the guardroom. There he found himself a plate and filled it up with smoked and salted meat, cheese and marching bread from the larder. Getting a cup of water, he sat at the table and began to eat… just as the door opened and the Sorceress of Grayskull entered the room.  
Swallowing his mouthful of food down he got to his feet. “Good morning, Sorceress.”

She waved for him to sit, smiling wryly. “Please, Duncan, eat.”

He nodded and returned to his breakfast before looking up at her. “I was going to come and see you after breakfast. We’ll be leaving early this morning.”

“You found the information you were looking for?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“Orko found what we were looking for,” he told her, noticing her smile broaden. “But I take it you already know that…?”

She shrugged and sat down across from him. “I had a feeling the Trollan would work out what needed to be done.”

“So, you knew how to find the book we needed all along?” he asked, frowning.

She chuckled. “Not at all. Don’t mistake me for the mistress of this castle and its magic, old friend. I’m merely a servant. But your diminutive friend is a clever one. And his innate understanding of magic meant that if anyone were going to work out how to use the magic in this place in your favour it would be him…”

“I’ve been underestimating him it seems…”

“Yes, you have,” she agreed with a playful grin. “Your jester is perhaps the most magical being on Tellus. If he were not limited by his physical nature his power may even match the Goddess…”

Duncan’s eyes widened. “Really?”

She nodded. “He is not a mortal being as we are. He is a creature from the Beyond like the gods themselves. A creature born of magic. His limitations in our world are largely a consequence of how different our realms are and, unlike the gods themselves, he cannot simply remake himself in a more suitable form to this world.”

“Is there a way to help him?”

“Perhaps,” she replied. “When he arrived on Tellus he bore an amulet that helped him sustain himself here, but he lost it when he saved the young prince.”  
Man-at-Arms stroked his chin. “Hmmm… Perhaps I could approximate some technological alternative when this current crisis has been averted.”

She smiled. “I’m sure that would make Orko exceedingly happy. You are a good man, Duncan.”

He hand-waved her compliment away. “I’m just a man. I do what I can.”

“That’s all any of us do, old friend,” she said. “So, tell me what you have found.”

“It turns out that Ullaur was a member of the Fantus tribe,” he replied. “They aided King Miro’s campaign against the Enchantress. I became good friends with a young Fantus warrior called Merlo during the campaign. If he still lives it should make our task even easier.”

“How do you plan on reaching the Fantus village?” the Sorceress asked. “The Vine Jungle is far too dense for wind-raiders to land there.”

Duncan gave her a scrutinising look, half smiling. “Why do I think you have a suggestion?”

She shrugged, returning the smile. “The Sorceress of Grayskull is generally renowned for her wisdom…”

Duncan laughed. “Okay, Sorceress, I await your wisdom…”

“Travel to Claw Rock and enter the Vine Jungle from the Felisian lands,” she said. “I will contact the Qadians and have suitable transport awaiting you there.”

“That would be most helpful,” Duncan replied.

“I also have some useful items for the others that should help them in your quest,” she said. “When they are ready, meet me in the throne room.”

He nodded. “It shouldn’t be long.”

She smiled and stood up, returning to the door. She paused on the threshold and turned back to the table with a slight frown on her face. “Gaztath furtsak,” she said, waving her open hand towards the table. The table surface began to glow, and ethereal objects began to take shape on its surface. After a few seconds, the objects took form and the glow faded, revealing a fine breakfast of freshly baked bread, meats, fruits, eggs, yoghurt and vegetables alongside fine crockery and cutlery and jugs of milk and fresh spring water. The air filled with the aromas of the foods as her frown turned into a smile. “You should all enjoy a decent breakfast before you depart. It may be some time before you have another.”

Duncan returned her smile. “Many thanks. I’m sure the others will be as appreciative.”

“It’s nothing, really,” she replied. “A minor conjuration. Enjoy your breakfast, old friend.” And with that she was gone, the door closing behind her.

*****

Evil-Lyn had spent the time since her vision preparing for the hunt ahead of her. Though her magic could not penetrate the wards and magical defences of the ancient Castle Grayskull and its guardian, her vision led her to believe her quarry was currently within its walls. She need only be ready and waiting when they left the fortress, and her spells would lead her right to them. And, if she had her way, the Sword of Power. Then they would all discover who was the true power of Snake Mountain…  
She was disturbed from her power fantasy by a knock on the door of her chambers high in her demesne. She turned to the door, already knowing who would be there. “Enter!” she called out imperiously.

The door opened and a figure stepped into the room, almost filling the doorway. “You called for me, mistress?” the giant of a Silaxian woman said in a voice like gravel. She towered over Evil-Lyn, but her tone and body language were completely deferential.

The Silaxians were an ethnic offshoot of the Gar that had emerged after the Great Wars during the oppressive reign of the Snake-Men over Infinita. Where their blue-skinned cousins relied on magic and technology and dreamed of all they had once been and lost before the fall of their great capital on Anwat Gar aeons ago during those wars, the purple-skinned Silaxians had turned their back on the past and developed their own culture rooted in martial prowess, honour and loyalty. Had they the inclination they could have ruled Infinita, but they had little interest in power or control of others. For aeons they had stood proud and alone against all the petty warlords and fiefdoms on Infinita – resisting even the Horde and Keldor’s conquest – but Evil-Lyn had succeeded in bringing them to her side where others had failed. It had simply required the right stimulus to move their elders to her side.

The warrior woman she had summoned before her was one of their greatest and had served Evil-Lyn loyally for many years. Her great strength was matched only by her skill in combat. Like all Silaxians, she wore only light armour: a black leather breastplate and loincloth with dark-blue pauldrons and tassets. On her feet she wore dark-blue greaves, and around her forearms golden bracers. Her hair was snowy white, shaved on the sides and braided at her crown, the shaved areas of her scalp covered in tribal tattoos.

“Yes, Huntara,” Evil-Lyn replied, crossing to her. “I require your services on a hunt. Our lord Skeletor’s enemies are seeking a weapon to drive us back to Infinita and keep the bounty of Eternia for themselves once more. He has tasked me with preventing this by finding those seeking this weapon and ensuring its power aids Infinita and not Eternia.”

“It is my honour, Lyn,” Huntara replied. “Simply point me at these enemies and I will ensure they do not triumph.”

Evil-Lyn smiled wickedly, reaching up to stroke the Silaxian’s cheek. “I know you will, my dear. I have always been able to rely upon you…”

“And you always will.”

“Then come,” Evil-Lyn commanded, walking past Huntara out of the room. “The rest of our hunting party awaits us at Snake Mountain.”

Huntara accompanied her mistress down from her high chambers and through the tunnels that connected her tower to Snake Mountain. “I have yet to meet this Skeletor,” she said as they walked.

“Don’t worry, Huntara, you will meet him soon have no doubt.”

“My people swore themselves to you, Lyn. Not to this sorcerer.”

Evil-Lyn smiled. “For now, my dear, our goals align. Should that change I will be sure to let you know. Do not speak of this once we reach Snake Mountain. There are eyes and ears everywhere.”

Huntara frowned. “It is an awful place. I struggle to understand why we defend it.”

“It is a place of power, my dear,” the witch replied. “Just as our enemies have their places of power, we must have ours. Infinita will always suffer while Eternia prospers so long as they hold the balance of power on this world. Snake Mountain and its secrets, dark though they may be, redress that balance so that one day our people will no longer be second-class citizens struggling to survive in the dust and heat. That was the promise I made to your elders all these years ago: that we would prosper once the Eternians were forced to share what they hoard…”

“I remember,” the Silaxian replied.

“It is a promise I intend to keep,” the witch continued, her lips curling into a cruel smile.

“I know you will,” came the reply, but before either could say more, they passed beneath the great stone arch into the caverns beneath Snake Mountain and completed their journey in silence.

They climbed in silence up through the mountains, crossing to the smaller south-western peak in which the throne room was located. Instead of climbing to Skeletor’s sanctum, though, they took a lower passageway which instead took them to the fortress’s hangar bay in which they found Tri-Klops and several technicians fuelling a trio of rotons.

“Are we ready, Tri-Klops?” Evil-Lyn demanded to know.

The cybernetic swordsman straightened and turned to her, one of his mechanical eyes clicking into place. “The rotons will be ready momentarily, Evil-Lyn,” he replied.  
“And Trap-Jaw?” she asked.

He made a point of looking around the otherwise empty hangar and shrugged. “Maybe you should find him,” he told her.

She sneered at his open disrespect. One day he would pay for that, but for now she needed him. Instead of venting her ire on Tri-Klops she waved her hand over the orb of her staff and watched as green cloud swirled within it. “Trap-Jaw!” she shouted. “Where are you, you mechanical monstrosity?”

The clouds in the orb parted and she saw the cybernetic Gar prowling down a tunnel somewhere within Snake Mountain. “Trap-Jaw, what are you doing?” she asked angrily. “We are waiting for you!”

“Then wait for me, witch!” he snarled at her from within the orb. “I’ll be there when I get there!”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you’ll get here now!” she responded, waving her hand over the orb again. A red glow appeared around Trap-Jaw within the orb, surrounding him and then projecting itself out of the orb into the hangar. Trap-Jaw’s image melted within the orb as he cried out in fear, and then a moment later he reformed where the projected glow touched the hangar floor.

As he realised what had happened, the Gar’s red eyes narrowed menacingly, and he stepped towards Evil-Lyn. “I told you, witch,” he began to say.

And then Huntara stepped between them, a pair of swords in her hands, their blades glowing with green energy, the tip of one pointed at his cybernetic throat. “Keep your distance, beast,” she commanded him.

“You think you can take me, girlie?” he chuckled through the open mantrap where his lower face should have been.

“Shall we try?” she asked, moving the tip of her blade close enough to contact the black cybernetics of his throat. The energy crackled as it made contact and Trap-Jaw jerked back. His eyes narrowed to slits and he raised his mechanical armature, its hook glinting menacingly in the light. Huntara did not back down.

“Enough!” Evil-Lyn commanded, a blast from her staff lifting Trap-Jaw from his feet and tossing him across the room. Suddenly she had everyone’s attention. Her eyes glowed green with the magic she channelled. “Do you forget who has ruled here for the past twenty years?” she demanded, turning her gaze from Trap-Jaw to Tri-Klops. “Do you forget how I maintained that position?” She waited, hoping one of them would speak out of turn but satisfied that neither did. “Our lord may have returned,” she continued, “but do not mistake us for equals here. You are his minions. I am his right hand! Do not forget who you are dealing with. Do we understand one another?”

“Yes,” Trap-jaw grunted as he struggled to get to his feet.

She turned to Tri-Klops. “And you?”

He nodded. “I think we understand each other perfectly,” he said with a sneer.

“Be sure you do!” she warned. “Now, are the rotons ready?”

Tri-Klops nodded. “Yes.”

“You and Trap-Jaw take one,” she said. “Huntara and I will take the other.”

“So, is this it?” Trap-Jaw asked. “The four of us?”

“There’s one other,” she said as she climbed into the pilot’s seat of the roton, Huntara taking the gunner’s post behind her. “But he’s meeting us outside.”

Once she was sure Huntara was strapped in securely and the fuelling pipes had been disconnected and moved out of the way by the hangar technicians, she pressed the control to close the canopy and then pushed the ignition button. A high-pitched whine filled the cockpit as the engines cycled up to speed, dying in volume and pitch as they powered up to full. She flicked several more switches on her control panel and the perimeter blades began to spin, buzzing like a large and angry fly. Then she took the control stick and pushed it forwards, causing the roton to skitter across the floor of the hangar towards the outer entrance.

Moments later the two rotons burst out of the hangar between the jaws of the demonic visage that aeons ago had been carved into the mountainside, some claimed before the Great Wars. As the two craft banked to the west, a great shriek pierced the air and moments later they were joined by a great black griffon, its talons and beak sharp and glossy as obsidian. Between its broad shoulders rode Beast Man, clinging to the leather saddle and reins. The griffon flew into formation with the two rotons and Evil-Lyn’s completed hunting party set forth for Eternia and their quarry…

*****

Duncan arrived at the throne room of Grayskull with the others about an hour after they had spoken in the guardroom. All five now wore lightweight techno-armour that made them look much more like a band of champions. Adam had donned golden greaves over his boots and a red breastplate inlaid with silver and gold instead of his usual vest. A gold half-helm was tucked under his arm and a sword and dagger hung at his waist. Glimmer had also donned a purple breastplate over her tunic, inlaid with pink detailing, over the top of which she still wore her shimmering robe.

As the five of them walked down the central walkway of the throne room, the Sorceress looked down on them from the throne, a warm smile on her face. “Greetings, my friends,” she addressed them as they reached the foot of the dais. “I asked that Man-at-Arms bring you to see me before you embarked on your quest.” She got to her feet and descended from the throne to stand before them. She looked at each of them in turn, studying their faces. “I understand that some of you likely believe this quest is beyond your abilities-” she looked at Adam “-or a distraction from bigger issues-” she looked to Kowl “-or even a complete waste of time, but you are all where you need to be and doing what needs to be done. The future of Eternia and Tellus may be decided by what you do over the coming days, weeks and months. There will be trials and struggles before you, not only on your quest but in what follows its completion. And I wanted to give each of you something to help you in those trials and struggles. Castle Grayskull has defended and sheltered many unique magical and technological items down the millennia, and as Sorceress of Grayskull it is within my remit to bestow those items upon worthy champions when they may be of use.”

She raised a hand and a silver metal belt appeared in it, inlaid with gold and red, and with a red cross emblazoned at the widest part. “Prince Adam,” she said, turning to him. “to you I give the Belt of King Grayskull. It is forged of coridite and generates a protective force-field around the wearer. It will protect you from arrowshot and glancing blows from melee weapons.”

“Thank you,” the prince replied as she handed it to him.

As Man-at-Arms helped the prince to fasten the belt around his waist, the Sorceress turned to Teela. “To you, young warrior, I grant the Kobra Staff,” she told the younger woman, and the plain wooden staff in Teela’s hand was replaced in a flash with a red-brown wooden staff topped with the carved rearing head of a hooded serpent, its eyes formed by glittering rubies. “The staff is enchanted with ancient magic and is virtually unbreakable. It also possesses other powers which you will discover over time as you and the staff bond with one another.”

“Th- thank you,” stuttered Teela. “But I’m no magician. Surely such a powerful weapon should go to someone who can use it like Glimmer.”

The Sorceress smiled warmly and stroked Teela’s cheek gently. “You are more than you can begin to imagine, young one,” she said, with an edge of sadness that belied her smile. “In the years to come, you will discover things about yourself that you could not have imagined. Kobra will help you navigate that process of discovery.”

She turned next to Glimmer. “Ah, young princess, your future will take you to dark places where others fear to tread,” she said sympathetically. “As such, I can think of no greater gift for you than the Staff of Illumination.” A staff appeared in her hands in a flash of light. It possessed a rosewood shaft atop of which sat a carved pink rose with green creepers coiling around the upper third of the shaft. Within the heart of the blossom sat a large glittering white crystal. “The staff will help to channel and enhance your natural powers and will guide your way when things are at their most unclear.”

“Thank you, Sorceress,” Glimmer said, taking the offered staff. “It’s beautiful.”

“Use its power well, princess,” the Sorceress responded before turning her attention to Bow. “To you, young squire, I have decided to give the Hood of Illusions.” She conjured a red hood in her hand, embroidered with gold and matching the colour and material of Bow’s poncho.

“I’m glad that it matches my cloak,” he said with a wry smile.

The Sorceress smiled back. “It is a Hood of Illusions,” she said. “It matches everything.” She waved her free hand over the hood and it disappeared in a shimmer of light only to reappear moments later around Bow’s neck.

“Well at least I don’t need to worry about clashing,” he said, clearly puzzled.

The Sorceress chuckled. “The hood will do more than match your outfit, young one,” she told him. “Raise the hood and it will wrap you in impenetrable shadows to hide you from your enemies. You will walk unseen and unheard within its protective aura. It will also, as its names suggests, produce illusions to fool and misdirect those who intend you harm.”

“What kind of illusions?” he asked, suddenly interested.

“Whatever kind you can imagine,” she revealed with a knowing smile. “Use it wisely.”

“Oh, I will,” he replied slyly.

The Sorceress turned her attention to Orko next, and her smile grew brighter and more open. “I have a very special gift for you, little friend,” she said. “Though I cannot find your amulet for you right now, I believe this may be of help until it is recovered.” She raised a hand and a golden wand appeared in it, topped by a disk within which was set a red gemstone. “I give you the Wand of Focus. It is not a replacement for that which you lost, but it will help you to focus your magic. But be warned, the wand’s power may only be called upon thrice during each circle of Tellus around Serenia, so spend its power wisely. As I know you will…”

“Oh, of course, Sorceress,” he responded, taking the wand. “You don’t know how much this means…”

She smiled. “Perhaps not, but I know it means a great deal…”

“Thank you,” Orko said, his robes billowing around him as he clutched the wand to his chest,

“And last but certainly not least, Master Kowl,” she said, turning to the Kolian. “I have thought long and hard on what part you are to play in this quest, and thus what gift of Grayskull to bestow upon you, and I believe I have just the thing.” She opened her hand and with another flash of light a golden latticework orb about the size of a small apple appeared in her palm. Within the heart of the lattice a shard of crystal could be seen, glowing faintly. “This is the Orb of Srewsna,” she said. “It is a powerful device that has been hidden away within Castle Grayskull for centuries to prevent it falling into the wrong hands.”

“I hope it doesn’t do anything unnatural,” the Kolian said, eyeing the orb suspiciously.

The Sorceress smiled. “That depends greatly on your point of view, Master Kowl. The Orb of Srewsna is an oracle. When asked a question about the present, past or even the future, it will answer said question truthfully.”

“Really?” Kowl asked, suddenly interested. “How?”

“You must ask it a question that is answerable with either yes or no,” the Sorceress explained. “The crystal will glow with a distinct colour depending on the answer.”

“Fascinating,” Kowl said, astounded, as she handed him the orb.

“Keep it safe, Master Kowl,” she warned him. “Its power may seem benign, but in the wrong hands its knowledge of the future could prove disastrous.”

“Quite,” said Kowl. “And you say the orb only answers yes or no?”

The Sorceress shook her head. “I said to ask it yes or no questions, not that it could not give other answers. But more complex questions produce answers more difficult to interpret as it can only respond with patterns of colour. The more you use it, the better you may become at interpreting its answers, but the Ancient who created the orb did not provide us with an instruction manual. You would need to decipher the meanings of the colours and patterns the orb displays…”

“I will keep it safely hidden on my person at all times,” Kowl told her as he slipped the orb inside his robes of office. “It will be safe with me.”

“Of that I have no doubt, Master Kowl,” the Sorceress responded. She turned and climbed the dais to the throne of Grayskull and then turned to face them. “And so, the time has come, my friends, to bid you good journey. The quest ahead of you may at times seem impossible, but I am certain that the seven of you have it within you to succeed and find Eternia’s new champion. You leave here with my blessings and my hopes for your success.”

“Thank you, Sorceress,” Duncan replied. “We’ll take all the blessing we can get.”

“Yes, Sorceress, thank you,” agreed Orko.

“We won’t give up,” said Glimmer.

“We definitely won’t give up!” agreed Teela.

“You can count on us,” said Bow.

“Yeah,” said Adam a little reticently. “I won’t let you down.” Not again…

“Then may you go with the blessings of Grayskull,” she told them, and behind them the doors to the throne room opened. “You will find your wind-raiders atop the castle where you left them.”

“Thank you, Sorceress,” Duncan repeated and the seven of them turned to leave.

As the doors to the throne room closed behind them, the Sorceress sat down on the throne. “May the wisdom of the Elders be with you all,” she whispered.  
Several minutes later, the two wind-raiders rose from the ramparts of Castle Grayskull and jetted off to the south-west and the Vine Jungle.

*****

Claw Rock was a tall narrow mountain peak rising on the western fringes of the Vine Jungle in central Eternia. It was the tallest of several craggy peaks on the south-eastern edge of the Highlands of Felisia. The foothills of the peaks were spotted with broken jungle canopy before this gave way to the grassy highlands of the Eternian cat people the Qadians. To the north, the highlands were bordered by the barren expanse of the Sands of Time while to the south they fell to the low-lying Plains of the Wind, and to the west they rose to the Mountains of Molock.

It had taken the wind-raiders a few hours to make the journey from Castle Grayskull, having crossed the Majestic Mountains and the Sea of Rocks to the south-west and then travelling parallel to the western fork of the Empty Mountains along the edge of the Sands of Time until they reached the highlands. As Man-at-Arms and Teela guided the two craft down towards the base of Claw Rock, their radios crackled, and a gruff rumbling voice spoke. “Wind-raiders, this is Rrauren of Felis Qadi. We have been expecting you.”

“This is the Man-at-Arms of Eternos,” he responded. “Well met, Rrauren. I take it the Sorceress of Grayskull made contact.”

“The Sorceress spoke to our chief Carnivus,” the Qadian responded. “She asked us to meet you with vehicles and supplies to aid your journey into the jungle.”

“We are in your debt,” said Man-at-Arms. “Do you have a beacon to guide us to you?”

“Aye,” came the reply and seconds later a beacon began to flash on the wind-raider’s console.

“We have you,” said Man-at-Arms. “Wind-raider one to wind-raider two; Teela, do you have the beacon?”

“Yes, father,” she replied. “I’ll follow you in.”

Man-at-Arms guided his craft down towards the beacon followed by the second raider. As they came closer to the ground, they saw a small group of Qadians standing on a patch of level ground. There were six small, armoured ground vehicles nearby with thick heavy-duty wheels and saddles large enough for two riders. Their hulls were blue, with bronze wheel rims and a chrome dragon’s head over the front wheels ahead of the saddle and handlebars. He landed his craft on the same patch of level ground far enough away that the heat of the landing jets would not burn the waiting Qadians. Teela landed her craft alongside and their occupants disembarked.

“Welcome, my friends,” said one of the Qadians whom they recognised as the voice over the radio. “I am Rrauren.” The Qadian had dark fur that was almost black, on which was a barely visible jet-black speckling. His head was topped by a golden mane that was braided in front of his pierced ears and hung down to his shoulders in the back. He wore lightweight leather armour with steel scale over the chest and shoulders. His hands and feet were bare.

“Thank you for agreeing to help us,” said Man-at-Arms before introducing the others.

“Our peoples may not have fought together since the Horde were driven back to Etheria, but we Qadians are always ready to help the Sorceress of Grayskull and her allies,” the Qadian replied. “We brought vehicles capable of navigating the jungle pathways as requested and supplies for your journey. Where are you headed?”

“The Fantus village,” Man-at-Arms replied. “Have you heard of it?”

The Qadian shrugged. “There are many tribes in the jungle these days and we Qadians keep to our own.”

“We believe they live in the foothills of the Lost Mountains,” Man-at-Arms continued. “But it’s been many years since I last navigated the jungle paths. If you can at least get us to the mountains that would be a great help.”

The Qadian stroked his furred chin, then led Man-at-Arms to one of the vehicles, which he introduced as a quadragon rover. He tapped into its control console and brought up a holographic map of the jungle. Several trails were marked in red criss-crossing the jungle from Claw Rock and the Qadian pointed to one that led them close to the Lost Mountains before skirting north of the Swamps of Enchantment to the coast of the Sapphire Gulf. “Try this route,” he said. “My people have not journeyed its full length for several years so you may have to cut your way through the undergrowth in some places, but it is your clearest pathway.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Man-at-Arms responded with a smile, studying the route before the Qadian deactivated the hologram. “You’ve done more for us than I could have hoped for.”

“It was nothing for the Sorceress,” the Qadian replied. “The people of Felis Qadi do not forget our debts… Now, we should get your equipment stowed and then we will share a midday meal before you embark into the jungle.”

“That would be much appreciated,” he said with a smile.

It did not take long for them to stow their packs and other supplies into the small cargo compartments in the rear of three of the Qadian quadragons and then the cat-folk set about making a fire to cook their meal. “How go things in Felisia?” Man-at-Arms asked their hosts as he sat in front of the fire. “Have the Infinitans made it south of the mountains yet?”

“Our rangers bring word of Infinitan envoys in the cities north of the jungle,” Rrauren said. “No doubt they will find firm friends in Targa if nowhere else. But as yet they have not dared set foot in the pride lands. They remember what our warriors did to them the last time they dared cross out borders uninvited.”

Man-at-Arms chuckled. “I have no doubts.” His expression sobered quickly thereafter as he continued speaking: “But one way or another they will come. If not with peace envoys, then with war machines.”

“And let them come,” said one of the other Qadians, a tall woman with spotted golden fur and a raven black mane. Though slender, tight muscle rippled under her fur as she stretched her long limbs. “We will be ready for them when they do.”

“Perhaps,” he replied. “But only together will Eternia survive the coming war. We cannot afford to be separated. Their new warlord, Skeletor, is too powerful for us to stand alone against.”

“You may be right,” said a third Qadian: an older man with dappled red-brown fur, a snowy-white mane and muzzle with a long white moustache that extended below his lower jaw, and black tips to his ears. “I am Lynus. I remember well the last war, sad as I am to say it. I fought with you Eternians against the Horde until we drove them from out. But if that is to happen again, now, then only Chief Carnivus and the other Felisian leaders can agree it…”

“I am Duncan, the Man-at-Arms of Eternos,” he replied. “I promise you that High King Randor will revive the old alliances in the coming months.”

“Hmmm,” Lynus said, stroking one end of his trailing moustache. “That will depend greatly on if your king survives his captivity, will it not?”

Man-at-Arms seemed to flinch at the Qadian’s words, and Adam, Teela and Bow seemed almost ready to raise arms, but the moment passed.

Adam spoke first, fighting back his temper. “We will free my father. That is the purpose of our quest. We are seeking the He-Man.”

Lynus looked at the prince with his inquisitive amber eyes. “So, you are the young prince,” he said, studying him. “Well, young prince, do not think my words unkind or purposefully rude. I speak of a very real possibility that we must all face up to, for if the High King dies a prisoner of Snake Mountain then many of the old alliances may die with him…” The old Qadian shook his head sadly. “Aye, things seldom turn out as we hope, young prince. You will discover this for yourself as you get older… But seeking the He-Man you say? Well, a He-Man will certainly be cause for celebration and the reviving old alliances, don’t you think? Aye, if the Goddess were to name a new champion, then by Saz’s whiskers this may just turn out well for us all…”

“We will find the new He-Man,” Adam said. “I can assure you of it.”

“Oh!” Lynus replied with a chuckle and a raised eyebrow. “Well, we Qadians may just keep you to that assurance, my boy. Aye, we might at that.”

“Enough jabbering,” interjected Rrauren. “Time to eat so our friends can be on their way.”

“Yes,” agreed Man-at-Arms with a grim smile. “The day is getting on.”

He was just taking a plate of food from Rrauren when the energy blast hit the campfire, sending up a cloud of ash and flames that momentarily blinded both the Eternians and the Qadians and sent them scrabbling backwards to avoid being burned.

Man-at-Arms was the first to recover, the air filter and visor on his techno-armour deploying as it detected the smoke and ash. He rolled to his feet, the visor giving him enhanced vision through the dust and haze in the air. Five humanoid figures were descending on them from further up the mountain, his visor displaying each as a heat source through the rapidly cooling ash blown up from the fire. He took the mace from his belt and extended it to maximum length. “We’re under attack,” he shouted in warning. “Five attackers coming from the north-east.”

He could see the others recovering from the initial shock of the unexpected assault through his visor enhancements, some faster than others. Teela, he was proud to see, was up and taking up a defensive posture as fast as Rrauren and the other young Qadians. Bow, Adam and Glimmer were up and ready for another attack moments later. Kowl was the slowest to respond, and Orko seemed to not register on his heat-vision at all. “Bow, Teela, defend Kowl and Orko,” he ordered. “Adam, Glimmer, don’t engage unless the enemy engages you. The Qadians and I will take the lead here.”

“I can fight!” Adam responded indignantly.

“Now is not the time for a debate!” Man-at-Arms retorted as the five attackers drew nearer, fanning out and slowing as they got closer.

As the ash cleared, his visor retracted, and he recognised their attackers. “Well, well,” he said with a grim smile. “Evil-Lyn, what brings you and this motley crew to Felisia?”

“Pleasantries, Duncan?” she asked, the orb of her staff glowing with magic. “Clearly the years have dulled your fighting spirits. I would have expected an immediate retaliation, not words.”

“Milady,” he replied mockingly, “I am a gentleman.”

“Ha!” she responded. “How pathetic!”

He smiled wryly, adjusting the grip on his mace and deploying a buckler from the techno-armour on his other forearm that unfurled like the petals of a flower. “Let’s see who is pathetic, Lyn!”

With a roar, one of the Qadians leapt forward over his head and he recognised it as Rrauren, who now carried a paid or axes. Tri-Klops moved to intercept him, catching his axes on his sabre and parrying them away, but only for a moment before the cat-man pushed forward with another attack. As if they had been waiting for their leader to act, the other Qadians leapt into battle with blades, axes, hammers and staves, engaging Evil-Lyn’s hunters as Man-at-Arms charged forward to engage the witch herself, deflecting her first bolt of magic from his buckler and forcing her to retreat out of range of his mace.

Adam watched as the battle commenced around him. The Qadians fought with a ferocity unlike any he had ever witnessed, with weapons and claws and teeth depending on which was most easily able to strike a blow. Man-at-Arms was very nearly as terrifying in combat. Though Adam had trained with the man since childhood in the use of weapons and tactics, he had never seen him move the way he did now, relying of every ounce of strength-enhancement and durability that his techno-armour could grant him.

And yet their opponents were every bit as capable. The witch who Duncan had called Evil-Lyn was a formidable spell-caster and the power that erupted from her staff tore the ground open like it was made of paper. The giant Gar cyborg engaged three of the Qadians single-handed, the metal talons of his feet ripping up the ground where he trod and the skeletal black armature emerging from his right shoulder shifting and reforming between attacks from a wicked serrated hook, to a vice-like pincer, and then a laser cannon. As Adam watched, one of the Qadians got too close to that armature and fell as the hook ripped through his side with a splatter of red. Elsewhere, the tall Silaxian woman fought two-handed with energy blades, fending off a pair of Qadians with apparent ease, and the three-eyed swordsman seemed almost to be toying with Rrauren.

The last of the five – the great hulking orange beast-man – had bypassed the main fight and was bearing down on Adam and his friends with a wicked studded leather whip in his hand. Bow’s shock arrows barely registered as they buried themselves in his thick shaggy fur and, as Adam watched, too slow to intervene, he reached the squire and knocked him aside with the back of his hand. “Bow!” Adam shouted, finally spurred into action, but before he could attack the beast-man had engaged Teela and closed a hand around her throat.

Adam launched himself at the brute, only to find himself hanging in the air as its other massive hand caught him by the sword arm and prepared to dash him against the ground, a triumphant and gleeful grin on its face.

The barrage of purple energy blasts that impacted against its back prevented it from following through with its intent and it staggered forward, loosing Adam and Teela in its shock. It swung its head around looking for its attacker, eventually catching sight of Glimmer several yards away from both it and the rest of the skirmish. An evil grin curled its lips and it lowered itself into a knuckle-walk stance. As it began to charge, Glimmer vanished in a flash of purple light and it pulled itself up short, looking around puzzled.

Glimmer reappeared beside Adam and Teela. “Are the two of you okay?” she asked.

Teela nodded, rubbing her bruised throat and Adam responded. “Are any of us going to be soon?”

The princess gave him a meek smile, clearly sharing his misgivings. “I’ll check on Bow if the two of you can keep that thing busy,” she said, and teleported away.  
Adam and Teela climbed to their feet, recovering their weapons, and placed themselves between the beast-man and their friends as quickly as they could. As it saw them do so, it laughed, a deep guttural sound. “That’s right, kiddies,” it gloated. “Get nice and close so I don’t have to move so far to kill you both…”

Adam adjusted the grip on his sword nervously and deployed a buckler that unfurled from his left bracer. Beside him Teela stood holding the Kobra Staff two-handed, her face determined. The beast-man chuckled menacingly and then began to charge them on all fours, his tusks bared and spittle flying from the edges of his mouth. His eyes were wide, the whites visible all the way around his red irises. As he reached them, they parted so that he could not attack them both together. He swung an arm at Adam, judging him to be the greater threat, but the prince ducked under his swing and raised up with his sword slicing up towards the creature’s exposed stomach. It leapt up, evading the blade and kicked out with one foot, hitting the prince square in the chest and knocking him to the ground winded.

Teela stepped between them, the Kobra Staff swinging. Adam expected the staff to break as it contacted the beast, but instead it hit with all Teela’s force and knocked the beast back. For a moment he thought he saw the staff’s ruby eyes glowing, but then dismissed it as a trick of the light as he struggled back to his feet before their opponent could attack again.

The blast of white energy that struck the beast-man in its side threw it several yards through the air to land in a heap. Adam and Teela turned, wondering where the blast had come from, only to see Orko hovering in the air, his tattered robes billowing around him and his eyes glowing with power. The Wand of Focus was clutched in one blue glove, its tip glowing white. The Trollan seemed as surprised by the success of his magical attack as they were. “Hey,” he said, “this really works!”

“Go on Orko!” shouted Adam happily.

The magician spun up over everyone’s heads in a swirling tatter of red cloth and then settled, the wand gripped firmly in his hand. “Only two more spells today,” he muttered to himself. “Better make them count…”

He pointed the wand at the witch attacking Man-at-Arms and willed another blast of white energy to erupt forth from it. The blast struck her and threw her into the air, but instead of dropping her the energy coalesced around her into a spinning prison of glowing silver rings that contained both her and her magic.

“Who dares?” she shouted angrily, before spotting Orko and the wand. “You?” she asked incredulously. “The jester? When I get out of here be sure I will make you pay for this you little-”

“Ah ah,” Orko interrupted, “it’s not nice to call others mean names!” And with a flourish of the wand, he launched her spinning prison up to the peak of Claw Rock. Immediately after, the glow disappeared, and he felt the power of the wand fade. “Man-at-Arms,” he called, “I’m all out of juice.”

“Orko?” the man replied in disbelief at what had just happened.

Orko swelled with pride as he sank back towards the ground. “That felt so good after all these years,” he muttered to himself.

“Eternians,” growled Rrauren as he parried Tri-Klops’s swords, “go while you can! If you truly do seek the He-Man, then your quest cannot end here. Now the witch is contained, we Qadians will delay the others for as long as we can…”

Man-at-Arms looked almost set to refuse, but then he gave a resigned nod. “Thank you, my friends,” he said before running to the three loaded ground quadragons. As he jumped into the saddle of one, he looked to where Adam and the others watched. “Come on!” he said. “We don’t have long!”

Adam and Teela ran to the other two vehicles as Glimmer cradled an unconscious Bow in her arms and teleported ahead of them. Kowl and Orko hurried after. Glimmer secured Bow and his combow to the saddle behind Teela and then teleported in behind Adam on the third. As Kowl and Orko settled behind Man-at-Arms, the engines growled into life. Man-at-Arms pulled up the hologram of the jungle and set their route, and then let out the throttle. “Follow me,” he said, and the three quadragons pulled away from the skirmish and sped downhill before turning east into the sparse trees that formed the edge of the Vine Jungle. They quickly found the route shown on the holographic map and then the jungle closed in around them and they were swallowed within its shadows.

None of them noticed the small mechanical hover-drone that slid into the shadows behind them and followed them deeper into the jungle…

*****

The jungle path forced them to ride single-file, trees and vegetation hemming then in on both sides and the ubiquitous vines that gave it its name hanging down from the branches that arced overhead. Rustling in the undergrowth and up in the canopy suggested the presence of beasts, but they saw nothing in the gloom. Though the path was overgrown in places, the big heavy wheels of the Qadian vehicles were able to manage the uneven ground and they managed to maintain a good speed. By the time Bow regained consciousness an hour into their journey they were already tens of miles into the jungle.

They paused for a few minutes when Bow awoke so that Man-at-Arms could check him over for injuries, but aside from a few bruised ribs and a mild headache the young squire was unharmed. Bow flinched as the older man bandaged his ribs and the Man-at-Arms chuckled. “Remind me how many times have I told you of the importance of proper armour?” he teased. “But you will insist on flaunting that flat young stomach of yours…”

The comment made Adam and Glimmer chuckle, and Bow gave an embarrassed smile. “I think my ego is bruised a bit more than my ribs,” he said.

After his injuries had been treated, they continued their journey deeper into the jungle, Man-at-Arms checking their holo-map regularly to ensure they did not get side-tracked and end up lost and heading in the wrong direction. They could see nothing of the sky through the dense canopy above and the shadows scarcely shifted to indicate where the sun was in relation to them. Instead, they relied on the navigation systems of their transport and the old soldier’s map reading skills.

“How long until we reach the Lost Mountains?” Glimmer asked when they stopped to eat mid-afternoon.

Man-at-Arms stroked the fresh stubble on his chin as he thought it over. “Oh, several days at least,” he said. “We’re making good time thanks to the Qadians but there are still hundreds of miles of jungle ahead. I’m just glad we’ve not crossed paths with any beast-men yet. The deeper we go, though, the more likely we are to encounter them…”

“More like the hulking brute back there?” Bow asked. “Just wonderful! We barely escaped one never mind more…”

“Beast Man is more an exception than a rule when it comes to his people,” the older man reassured them. “His people exiled him from the jungle decades ago. So long as we don’t trespass on their territory most of the tribes should let us pass in peace.”

“Most of them?” Kowl exclaimed, looking around nervously.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Glimmer said, trying to reassure him.

“If we do encounter any hostiles, so long as we can stay ahead of them, we have the advantage,” Duncan continued. “Our transport can outpace beast-men easily. And those old Qadian transports aren’t as defenceless as they appear. If it comes to a fight, we can put up a fight.”

Their meal was small and over quickly and once they had all eaten what they felt they could Man-at-Arms urged them to continue until dark. Then they could make camp for the night. They made several more hours travel before the darkness began to settle around them and, finding a wider section of the path to call a halt in, they circled their quadragons and camped in the middle of them. It was a little cramped and Man-at-Arms set a watch all through the night, but when dawn finally began to filter through the canopy and the night had passed without incident, they felt rested and resumed their journey.

They travelled onward for several more days, each night sleeping in the middle of their circled quadragons and posting a watch until the dawn came, and then continuing, but eventually they could feel the ground beneath them change from the regular ups and downs of roots and rainwater run-offs to a more definite incline that appeared to be gently climbing towards the south. After several hours of travelling with that slope changing its angle but with a near constant southward climb, they stopped, and Bow used his combow to fire a grapple into the canopy and then climb up to the top.

“There are mountains to the south,” he confirmed for them when he returned to the jungle floor. “The range seems to continue for many leagues to the east with the jungle climbing up to meet them.”

“Those must be the Lost Mountains we saw in the map at Grayskull,” said Adam enthusiastically.

“Then we have a decision to make,” Duncan told them. “This route continues east and then turns north around the Swamps of Enchantment and we need to go south. The Qadian maps don’t show us where to turn off this path to get up to the mountains. Do we turn south at the next fork in the road or wait and turn south closer to the swamps?”

“If we make the wrong choice, we may end up going in completely the wrong direction,” said Bow.

“Perhaps the staff the Sorceress gave me can light our way,” said Glimmer. “She said it would show the way when things were unclear.”

“Then by all means, your highness, give it a try,” Man-at-Arms replied

She nodded and walked into the middle of the path, raised the staff above her head in one hand and then closed her eyes. She reached inside her for her magic and let it flow out through the staff to the white crystal nestled in its head. “Show us where we need to go,” she whispered to the staff as she felt her magic touch something far older and more potent within the crystal.

As the others watched, sparkles of pale pink light began to dance amid the carved petals of the blossom that topped the Staff of Illumination, and then the crystal itself began to glow. Faintly at first, deep in its core, and then brighter until it shone with a pink light bright enough to illuminate the trees to either side of their path. This light shone out in all directions for several seconds before it narrowed down to a single shaft that arced out from the crystal in the direction they were heading.

“By Zoar; it worked!” exclaimed Kowl.

Glimmer opened her eyes at his words and almost immediately the light faded away as her focus was broken. “It did?” she asked.

“It certainly appeared to,” said Man-at-Arms, stroking his chin. “If it did as the Sorceress said it would – and I’ve never known her to be wrong on such things – then we should continue along our current path for now.”

“Perhaps the direction of the light will change when we need to change direction,” said Teela.

“That seems a logical assumption,” her father replied.

Bow spoke. “Glimmer, do you think you could use the staff like that each time we reach a fork in the path?”

“I don’t see why not,” she replied.

“Then let’s get going,” said Adam with urgency. “The longer we stay still the more chance we have of being discovered.”

“Indeed,” said Man-at-Arms. “And not just by dangers from inside the forest. I doubt Skeletor’s minions have given up on us. We need to keep ahead of them too. Once we reach the Fantus village and find Ullaur we should be safe, but if they ambush us here in the jungle…”

“I don’t think you need say more, Master Duncan,” said Kowl, swallowing the lump that had formed suddenly in his throat. The Kolian eyed the trees nervously.  
They climbed back onto their quadragons, this time with Glimmer riding behind Man-at-Arms in lead position with her staff in hand. They travelled for another hour before the Staff of Illumination indicated for them to turn south, and they continued down a far narrower and more overgrown track that branched off towards the mountains. The thicker growth necessitated them stopping from time to time to clear a way for the Qadian vehicles, and slowed their progress, but they continued to make good time through the thickening jungle. For the rest of that day and the next they travelled southward and upward along a series of winding pathways through the trees, but the staff continued to guide them true and never led them down a path where their transport could not navigate.

*****

It was late afternoon on the second day of their southward journey when the winding pathway they followed began to widen out. The undergrowth on the track thinned out and mossy green stones began to jut out of the dirt at irregular intervals. The further they travelled along the widening road the more stones emerged upon the ground. The remains of great pillars stood flanking the way and eventually the dirt gave way to great flagstones beneath their wheels. Ahead through the trees loomed tumbled stones and the remains of ancient stone walls. Beyond the fallen walls could be seen several ancient stone structures tangled with trees and vines soaring towards the sky: great pyramids and temples of long-forgotten provenance.

As the quadragons passed through a partially fallen archway between the ancient walls, there was movement to either side and a half dozen heavily muscled and bronzed men emerged from hiding in the undergrowth armed with shields and spears and blocked the road ahead of them.

“Hold, strangers,” one of the spearmen called. “State your business!”

Man-at-Arms spoke. “I am Duncan, the Man-at-Arms of Eternos, and these are my companions: Prince Adam of Eternos, Princess Glimmer of Brightmoon, my daughter Teela, the king’s squire Bow, Kowl and Orko. We are seeking the He-Man, who we have been led to believe resides in the Fantus village.”

“The He-Man?” one of the other spearmen asked with a chuckle. “There has been no He-Man since the Great Unrest ended.”

“Perhaps you know the man we seek as Ullaur,” said Glimmer.

The spearmen looked at one another, either ignorant of the name or feigning their ignorance for the benefit of the strangers.

Man-at-Arms tried again. “Do any of you know Merlo? He was a Fantus warrior during the Great Unrest. He and I fought side-by-side in the conflict to defeat the Enchantress.”

“Merlo?” the lead spearman replied. “Aye, we know Merlo.”

“Could I speak with him?” Duncan asked. “He may be able to point us in the right direction.”

The spearmen exchanged mumbled words before one of their number ran off up the road deeper into the ancient ruins. Their leader turned back to the quadragon riders. “Our comrade will take word to our chief. You will wait here. He will decide what to do with you.”

Duncan suppressed a frown. “Thank you,” he instead said. “May I get down? We’ve been travelling a long time and I’m not a young man anymore.”

The lead spearman nodded curtly. “You can all get down but keep your distance.”

“Thank you again,” Duncan said as he slipped down off the quadragon and helped Glimmer down from the seat behind his. The others debarked their own vehicles but stayed close to them, eyeing the spearmen warily. Man-at-Arms crossed casually to where Bow, Teela and Adam stood. “Don’t make any aggressive moves,” he whispered to them. “These are the Fantus, I’m sure of it. I don’t know who their current chief may be, but I don’t believe we’re in any danger.”

“You’re sure about that?” asked Bow, eyeing the spearmen warily.

“Can anyone be sure of anything?” the older man asked with a smile.

“Are you attempting to reassure us?” asked Kowl.

“Fear not, Master Kowl,” Duncan replied. “The Fantus are a little insular but not the enemy. I’m sure I can reason with this new chief of theirs…”

“I’ll defer to your greater knowledge of Eternia, Master Duncan,” the Kolian replied, but his ruffled feathers indicated he was anything but relaxed.

“What if Ullaur really isn’t here?” asked Adam.

“Then we keep looking,” Duncan replied, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Adam. This quest will succeed.”

The prince nodded, but the concern in his eyes belied his uncertainty. He did not reply, though, and instead crossed to the side of the road and sat down on one of the tumbled rocks to wait. A few moments later, Glimmer joined him, putting a reassuring arm around his shoulder. “You don’t need to take all the weight of this quest on your shoulders,” she told him. “There are seven of us here. Let us shoulder some of the burden.”

He smiled weakly. “Thank you. I wish I could.”

She frowned. “What aren’t you telling us, Adam?”

“Nothing,” he lied.

“I don’t believe you,” she replied, but there was no accusation or hostility in her words. “There’s something about this quest that we haven’t been told but you have. What is it?”

“Nothing,” he repeated, remembering the Sorceress’s warning.

Her frown flickered with concern. “I’m worried about you, Adam. Whatever secret you’re carrying isn’t good for you. When you’re ready, we’re all here to listen to whatever it is and help share it.”

He smiled weakly. “Thank you. When I can share it, I promise that you’ll be the first to know.”

Before they could say any more there was a susurrus of activity from within the walls. As they got to their feet, they saw through the tumbled arch that the sixth spearman was returning. He was accompanied by five other men: four more spearmen and a taller, bigger man striding confidently between them dressed in crimson robes and an ornate golden mask. As they reached the other spearmen, Adam and Glimmer regrouped with their companions to await the chief’s word. For several minutes, the masked chief and his spearmen exchanged words in hushed whispers, the chief glancing over to the strangers.

Eventually, the chief had heard enough and raised a hand to the spearmen to be quiet. As the questers waited, the chief approached them, his dark eyes glinting behind his golden mask. He was flanked by two of the newly arrived spearmen, though there was no apparent aggression or hostility in their postures.

Duncan stepped forward and raised his hand in greeting. “Good day, your highness,” he said.

The chief chuckled. “I like the sound of that, Duncan of Eternos,” he said mirthfully.

“Do I know you?” Duncan asked, the first sense of recognition creeping into his perception.

The chief removed a golden sceptre from his gold belt and raised it to the chin of his mask, clicking it into a slot at the base. Using the sceptre as a handle, he lifted the mask, unhooking it from the golden circlet he wore atop his head, revealing his face. His skin was like bronze with eyes that were almost black flanking a strong, broad nose. His long hair was like coal and a black goatee surrounded his full, smiling mouth.

Duncan’s face lit with recognition. “Merlo? Old friend, is that you?”

The chief laughed heartily, crossing to Duncan and embracing the other man. “It is good to see you, my friend,” the chief said. “How long has it been now?”

“Oh, too long,” Duncan replied as they broke the embrace.

“That I can see,” Merlo replied, pointing to the streaks of grey in the Man-at-Arms’ hair. “The years are catching up with you, Duncan.”

“With both of us, Merlo,” he replied, pointing out the deepening wrinkles around his friend’s smiling eyes.

“Aye,” Merlo agreed. “But there are benefits of aging. Children for one.”

“You have children?”

“Aye. A daughter. Podi.”

“Me too,” Duncan replied. He turned and beckoned Teela to join them. “This is my daughter Teela.”

Merlo’s smile broadened. “Welcome, welcome, all of you,” he said. “Any friends of Duncan’s are friends of the Fantus.”

Duncan introduced the others one by one, ending with Adam.

“This is Randor’s boy?” the chief asked, looking at Adam. “I see his grandfather in his face.”

“King Miro?” asked Adam, his feelings too complex for him to unpack.

Merlo slapped him on the back. “Indeed, my prince. You are your father’s son, I’ve no doubt.”

Adam smiled weakly, wishing that were true.

Merlo had already moved his attention to the others, beckoning them to join him as he led them within the walls of the ruins. “My spearmen will bring your quadragons within. It is not far to walk. Come. We will speak more privately about this search of yours within my hall.” Merlo threw an arm around Duncan’s shoulders and steered them ahead, Adam and the others following behind as the two older men spoke of old times and old battles.

They walked deeper into the ruins as the road beneath them became more intact and repaired, the gaps between the ancient stone slabs filled with cobbles and tar. The great stone structures being reclaimed by the jungle seemed unoccupied. The road ascended into a valley between two promontories, the stone structures rising on either side covered in moss and vines and tree roots. As the climb of the valley steepened broad stone steps were cut into the floor that climbed up to a higher level of the ruins. Within the shelter of the valley were simple but well-built huts made of reclaimed stone and cut logs, lining the steps. Men, women and children went about their business in peaceful isolation from the outside world, living their lives as their ancestors must have done for countless centuries.

“This is our village,” Chief Merlo said as they climbed the stone steps. “Some forgotten civilisation of Ancients built this great city long ago and our legends say that our ancestors fled the Great Wars into the jungle and found the protection of its walls. We leave the works of the Ancients unmolested and build our lives amid their wonders, hidden from the outside world and the evils that plague it.”

“I fear those evils may no longer be content to stay outside,” said Duncan sadly.

“Then they will learn the error of coming to our village with ill intent,” Merlo replied. “We are far from defenceless as you no doubt remember.”

“Your people still have the stones?” Duncan asked.

Merlo nodded, a grim smile on his face. “We do. And while we have them the evils of outside had best think twice about testing our resolve. We may be a small tribe, but we are strong.”

They reached the upper level of the city, from where they could see yet more steep hut-lined streets descending to the lower level. The trees of the Vine Jungle were so old and tall that even this higher level of the city was hidden beneath their canopy, revealing only the very tallest of the Ancient structures to the sky. The largest of the structures rose from this upper level of the city: a great stone ziggurat with mighty pillars and obelisks rising from its steps, some intact but others eroded or tumbled down the aeons. Atop the ziggurat was the ruin of some ancient temple, but it had long since fallen into decay. And within the shadow of the ziggurat had been raised a simple single-storey hall of the same reclaimed stone and wooden logs from which the rest of the village was constructed. A smithy stood to the left of the hall, and other buildings on its other side, forming an open square before its doors.

“Come,” Merlo said cheerfully. “Let us go within.”

He led them in through the great wooden doors of the hall into a long room at the far end of which stood a table with great wooden chairs behind it. Between the table and the doors ran a long narrow fire pit flanked by other tables and chairs, and down the side walls of the room, doors opened into other areas of the structure. Merlo led them across the room to the table at the head of the fire pit and then beyond it through a door into a private chamber flanked by bedrooms. A young woman, probably half a decade younger than Adam, sat in a chair within the room reading a book. “My daughter Podi,” Merlo introduced her. “Podi, this is an old friend of mine, Duncan of Eternos, and his companions.”

When the introductions were done, the chief invited his guests to sit, then sent Podi to have the serving staff bring them refreshments. Once the young girl had left, he spoke. “So, tell me, Duncan, what is this quest of yours?”

Duncan replied. “Infinita serves a new warlord, old friend. A sorcerer calling himself Skeletor. He has captured our king and seeks to conquer Eternia. I fear he may succeed… The Sorceress of Grayskull has sent us on a quest to find the He-Man. She assures us that a champion of the Sword will arise to meet this evil.”

“The He-Man,” Merlo replied, stroking his bearded chin. “You bring us grave news here in our peaceful village, Man-at-Arms of Eternos, but perhaps it is for the best. If this Skeletor wishes to conquer Eternia then we Fantus would be fools to imagine he will overlook us and our Stones…”

Duncan nodded. “The last He-Man, Ullaur, was once of this tribe. We hoped that after the Great Unrest he had returned here.”

Merlo stroked his beard thoughtfully, a darkness passing over his features. “Aye, he did. He was tired of war, tired of pain and loss and suffering. As we were when the Enchantress was finally defeated all those years ago. He returned to us not the man who had left, much to our sadness…”

“We must find him,” Duncan urged. “He may be the only man alive who knows where the Sword of Power can be found.”

“He does not live in the village,” Merlo said. “He could find no peace here on his return.”

“Please tell me you know where he is,” Duncan said.

“Aye,” Merlo replied. “I know where he is. Worry not.”

“Can you show us where to go from here?” Duncan asked.

“I can do better than that. I can take you there. But the seven of you need rest before we go. We shall have some refreshments and then-”

“There’s no time,” interjected Kowl. “Our enemy has already caught us unawares once. We cannot tarry.”

“Master Kowl is right,” said Duncan. “Merlo, I wish there were time to sit and reminisce on old times, but our need is dire. We are likely pursued by servants of Skeletor. We were ambushed at Claw Rock before entering the jungle. I’ve little doubt they are still following.”

Merlo frowned. “Very well. We will not delay long. But you all look exhausted already. At least refresh yourselves before we leave.”

“I-” Duncan began.

“Let’s not be hasty and say no outright,” said Bow. “I for one could do with a few minutes before we get back in those damnable saddles…”

“I hate to admit it,” said Teela, “but I agree with Bow. A few minutes to recuperate before we go on will do us all a world of good.”

Duncan smiled wryly. “I suppose a few minutes can’t hurt much,” he surrendered. “But no more than that. The sooner we find Ullaur the sooner we can find the Sword of Power.”

Merlo spoke. “If it makes you feel better, old friend, we can take some of my rangers to Ullaur’s lodge with us. They can provide a watch against your pursuers and give us fair warning.”

“Very well,” said Duncan.

Merlo smiled broadly. “Excellent. Now where are those refreshments I requested…”

*****

They departed the Fantus village an hour or so later heading south towards the mountains. Merlo led the way on horseback with the Eternians following on their quadragons. The path wound higher into the forested uplands, growing more and more overgrown as they travelled as though no one had been that way in many months. Duncan drew up alongside Merlo and addressed his old friend with a look of worry. “Are you sure Ullaur is still in the same place? It doesn’t appear anyone has come this way in a long time.”

“Worry not my old friend,” the chief replied unconcerned. “The vines of this jungle grow fast. In a matter of weeks, they can grow as much as the vines of other jungles would in a year or more.”

“If that’s the case, will our quadragons get to the end of this route?” the Man-at-Arms responded.

Merlo patted his masked sceptre, smiling mirthfully. “There are no obstacles the moorstones cannot overcome. You should worry less, my old friend. It is aging you beyond your years.”

“Aging yes,” Duncan replied with a wry smile. “Beyond my years? I don’t know so much.”

Merlo laughed heartily, clapping the other man on the back. “You should return to our village when this current trouble is ended,” he said. “It will put some colour back into your cheeks… and your hair.”

Duncan laughed at that last comment. “Perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“Good, good,” Merlo responded, grinning broadly. “The hospitality of my hall will always be open to you and yours.”

“Thank you,” Duncan replied.

“We can talk of old battles and new loves,” Merlo said with a smile before riding ahead.

“He seems a cheerful sort,” said Kowl from the seat behind Duncan.

“Yes,” Duncan mused. “Perhaps there’s something worth considering about living hidden among the trees.”

Kowl chuckled. “Back in Etheria, we rebels have been doing that since the Horde invaded. It has its cons but also its benefits… One day you must visit the Whispering Woods, Master Duncan. You have never seen a more beautiful forest. And one the Horde have been trying and failing to infiltrate for decades.”

“Perhaps one day I will, Master Kowl,” he replied as they continued their way.

They travelled higher into the uplands for several hours, but never once cleared the canopy of the jungle above. The trees seemed to climb high up the slopes before thinning. On several occasions, Chief Merlo had to use the power of the moorstones to clear the way for them as the path narrowed and grew more winding and overgrown, but eventually in the early evening they rode out into a clearing in the trees atop a wide clifftop promontory. A large lodge hewn of stone stood at the centre surrounded by frames across which skins were stretched, a rustic wooden table near a fire pit looking out over the lower jungle, a great round whetstone and several neatly planted gardens of root vegetables.

Merlo drew his horse to a halt at the edge of the clearing and signalled for the others to debark their quadragons. “Here we are,” he said. “If you would wait here, I’ll go and let the man know you’re with me.” The others hung back as the chief walked towards the stone lodge, pushed aside the hide curtain over its roughhewn entrance and disappeared into the darkness within. They could hear voices speaking within but too muffled to identify the words.

“Suddenly I’m wondering if we shouldn’t have sent a messenger ahead,” Kowl muttered worriedly under his breath.

“Don’t worry, Kowl,” Orko replied, trying to sound positive. “I’m sure there’s no danger here. He was the He-Man after all…” Despite the attempt at positivity, the nervousness in the magician’s voice could not be hidden entirely.

“Duncan…?” Bow whispered.

“Relax. It’s okay,” the Man-at-Arms responded, though his expression didn’t fill them with much confidence either.

One of the voices within the lodge suddenly rose to a mighty bellow, freezing the listeners with fear. Moments later, the hide curtain over the entrance burst open and from within emerged a giant of a man taller even than Bow. His skin bore a deep tan from years of outside living stretched over a physique so muscular that his upper arms were bigger than Adam’s thighs and his neck was almost completely buried within the corded bulk of his shoulders. His dirty blond hair hung loose and wild around his shoulders, streaked with grey and white, and his face bore a thick tawny beard that hung to his collar, also tinged with age. He wore only a loincloth and boots of fur and hide, and heavy steel bracers around his wrists. For a moment, the wild-man’s dark eyes cast around the clearing before he saw them waiting at the edge of the trees, pinning them like wild animals in headlights.

“Duncan!” the man boomed as he marched towards them, his bulk enough to shake the ground. Kowl and Orko cowered behind their taller companions at his approach. The giant grinned from ear to ear, though it made him no less terrifying a presence.

As he reached the group, he threw his mighty arms around the Eternian Man-at-Arms and literally lifted him from his feet, armour and all, as though he weighed nothing. “How are you, old friend?” he boomed in what turned out to be a jovial tone. “It is so good to see you after all these years!”

“It’s good to see you again too,” Duncan replied, “but could you please put me down? If you squeeze much tighter my armour is going to need a panel beater!”

The man roared with laughter as he put the smaller man down. “Of course, of course, I forget my strength,” he replied. “But it is good to see you again. The years are catching up on you, old friend.”

“So people keep reminding me,” Duncan replied with a wry frown.

The man roared with laughter again, then as he sobered his attention turned to his old friend’s companions. “Now, Duncan, please introduce me to your friends.”

Duncan nodded and introduced the others, starting with the prince and princess, then Teela, Bow, Orko and Kowl. “And may I introduce you all to Ullaur,” he finished, indicating the giant man.

“So, this is Randor and Marlena’s boy?” Ullaur asked, looking down at Adam with interest.

“It is,” Duncan replied.

“Yes, I see his father in him, now I look,” Ullaur replied. “And his mother too.” His massive hand swallowed the prince’s forearm as he took his wrist in greeting, while Adam struggled to get his own hand around the old He-Man’s giant wrist. “Well met, my prince,” he continued, then looked from him to Duncan and back. “If Duncan brings you to me then I can only assume the time has come for the Goddess to call on her final champion…”

Duncan nodded. “We seek the Sword of Power, yes,” he said.

Ullaur sobered, looking at Adam with an expression of grief. “The darkness has returned then, I take it?” he said.

“Keldor has returned to Snake Mountain transformed and even more powerful,” said Duncan. “The Infinitans follow him once more. They have already launched their first attack on Eternia. They raised the City of Wisdom and attacked the Royal Palace. King Randor has been taken to Snake Mountain a prisoner.”

Ullaur sighed, shaking his head. “It is a dark day indeed.”

“Eternia prepares to recover the king from Snake Mountain by force of arms,” Duncan continued. “Orius and Krass are at the palace assembling a new group of Masters to accompany the armies. But the Sorceress of Grayskull believes that we need a new He-Man to win this war.”

“I will give you what little help I may,” Ullaur replied. “Merlo tells me you have travelled for many days to get here, so I invite you to stay this night. We will eat, drink, and talk of old times, and I will tell you what I know of the Sword of Power.”

“It’s not here?” asked Adam, already knowing the answer.

Ullaur shook his head. “No, my prince, I have not seen the Sword since I settled here. The Goddess took it.”

“Where?” asked Adam urgently.

Ullaur rested a hand on his shoulder. “Later, my prince, I will tell you all I can.”

“Why not now?” Adam demanded.

Ullaur’s expression darkened a moment, and then he sighed sadly. “The Goddess has bewitched my tongue, young prince. I cannot tell where the Sword of Power is. Not directly.”

“But you can indirectly?” Bow interjected, intrigued.

“There is a riddle,” Ullaur responded.

“A riddle?” asked Glimmer.

Ullaur nodded. “Yes, princess. I can only reveal the whereabouts of the Sword of Power through the riddle.”

“Then what is it?” Teela asked. “We don’t have much time before the Eternian armies set out for Snake Mountain.”

Ullaur looked from one to the next of them in turn, his expression pained. “Very well,” he said. “Come and I will tell you what the Goddess will allow me to tell.” He turned back into the clearing and crossed to the fire pit, the others following.

The former He-Man took a seat on a large log arranged beside the fire pit and waited for the others to join him. Merlo joined them, sitting beside Duncan, and they waited for their host to speak.

Ullaur’s expression was grim but sad. “It pains me that this day has come so soon,” he told them. “I had hoped we would be granted peace until I died an old man. You might think that a selfish hope, and perhaps it is…”

The curtain of the lodge moved, and a woman emerged from within. She was tall and lithe, with dark skin and long black braids. Her eyes looked at Ullaur with concern and she joined him on his log beside the fire pit, resting a delicate hand over his mighty knuckles. The man’s demeanour lit up at her presence, chasing the darkness away. “My friends,” he said, “may I introduce my wife Nuria.”

The others exchanged greetings with the woman, who was dwarfed by her husband. “Any friends of my husband are friends of mine,” she told them. “I hope you can all stay the night. You look like you all could do with a decent night’s sleep. We have plenty of room for your tents.”

Kowl spoke first. “We thank you for the offer, but we are on a tight-”

Duncan interrupted him. “Thank you for the kind offer, Nuria,” he said with a warm smile. “I think we could all do with a good night’s sleep.”

“Master Duncan!” Kowl protested.

“I thought you were all in favour of us hurrying to find the sword and its new wielder and then getting back to the palace,” said a confused Teela.

“Aye,” Duncan said, “but that was before we were told of this riddle the Goddess left us. It may take us some time to decipher it, and then we may have to travel halfway around the planet to actually recover the Sword of Power. And this is probably the safest we’re going to be on this quest. We should sleep easy while we can.”

“You are in danger?” Ullaur asked.

“The minions of Snake Mountain ambushed us before we entered the jungle,” Duncan explained. “Evil-Lyn and several hunters. The Qadians came to our aid and held them off while we escaped, but no doubt they are still looking for us.”

Ullaur had frowned at the mention of Evil-Lyn. “It pains me greatly that that witch still lives. She and her master are a blight on the world.” He turned to the others. “But your Man-at-Arms is correct, you are safer here than almost anywhere else.” He smiled grimly. “I may no longer possess the Sword, but I’m still the strongest man in Eternia. Your enemies will have an unpleasant surprise waiting if they come here for you.”

Nuria spoke. “I was about to make dinner anyway. Why don’t you ready your tents for the night while Ullaur and I prepare food? Then we can discuss your search while we eat.”

“Nuria is right,” Ullaur said, seemingly relieved to put off revealing the riddle to them. “I will tell you the riddle after we have eaten. Then perhaps we can put our heads together attempting to work out what it means. I must admit, I’ve tried to make sense of it for nearly two decades…”

“I’m sure it can’t be that difficult,” said Kowl. “No doubt we’ll have it worked out before bedtime.”

Ullaur laughed heartily. “Maybe we will, little friend,” he said. “Maybe we will.”

For the next hour, the questers unpacked their quadragons and raised their tents in the clearing around Ullaur’s lodge. As they did, Ullaur lit the fire pit and erected a pot stand over the flames, while Nuria filled a large pot with water from a spring that bubbled at the edge of the clearing and then began chopping unusual root vegetables, fruit, meats and herbs into the water as it bubbled over the fire. By the time they had finished readying their beds for the night, the clearing was filled by the delicious smell of the broth. Ullaur ripped open hard-crusted loaves of bread for use as both bowls and accompaniment. Finally, they were all gathered around the fire and Nuria dished out the meal to them all, blessing the food and thanking the spirits as she did so.

“The broth is delicious,” said Duncan, who had removed his over-armour to get more comfortable. “My compliments to the cook.” He raised the makeshift crust bowl to Nuria.

“Thank you, Master Duncan,” she replied. “I am glad you like it.”

“I’m not sure I can identify what’s in it,” interjected Bow as he swallowed down his own meal, “but I concur that it tastes amazing.”

“I pick the fruits, vegetables and herbs in the jungle,” Nuria told them. “They may seem a little strange and unusual to outsiders, but they complement each other and the meat well.”

“Indeed they do,” agreed Duncan with a smile, his bushy moustache glistening with the stock.

“There is plenty to go around,” Nuria told them all. “Feel free to eat your fill. I will take no offence if the pot is empty when you are done.”

They ate and exchanged small talk for a while before Prince Adam spoke up. “So, Ullaur, about this riddle the Goddess left for us…”

Ullaur’s expression darkened a little, but it was again from sadness rather than anger. “Very well,” he said as the others fell silent and turned their attention to him. “All the Goddess’s enchantment allows me to tell you about the whereabouts of the Sword of Power is this: ‘it waits in caverns dark and cold, where weapons clash to prove the bold; from blood and bones will come its power, but not until your darkest hour.’”

When the former He-Man finished speaking, the camp fell silent as each of those present considered the words they had just heard, trying to find some clue that might unravel it for them. The hush continued to draw on, until it began to feel uncomfortable.

Orko was the first to break the awkward silence. “Well, I’m stumped.”

Adam and Bow responded with nervous chuckles.

Kowl harrumphed. “It’s just a matter of breaking it down. Clearly our destination is underground on some kind of battleground.”

“A battleground in Subternia?” Adam replied drolly. “Well, that narrows things down. The Caligars have been fighting down there for centuries.”

Duncan spoke up. “No, Kowl is right, it’s just a matter of breaking it all down and then putting it back together to find the right answer.” He paused and sighed. “But for the life of me right at this moment I’m not getting any sudden inspirations…”

“Perhaps we should sleep on it?” Glimmer offered. “Maybe our dreams will reveal what we’re missing…”

“Maybe,” said Bow, but he sounded far from convinced.

Chief Merlo spoke. “If the Goddess left this riddle intending it for you then she must have meant for you to be able to find the answer. She just wants you to prove you’re worthy of what you seek of her, as is her way…”

“Now really isn’t the time for tests of worth,” muttered Teela. “Our king is languishing in a dungeon at Snake Mountain…”

“Gods don’t operate on our timescales,” Merlo replied with a shrug.

“That’s well and good,” she said, “but if King Randor dies while the Goddess makes us jump through hoops for her then the fall of Eternos will be no one’s fault but hers…”

“Have faith,” said Nuria. “The Goddess would not risk the balance of our world. If she has set you on this path, then she must know that you have the time to succeed.”

Teela sighed. “I just hope that when we find the Sword of Power, she doesn’t expect us to then go out and find the new He-Man to give it to him…”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” said Ullaur, winking at Prince Adam. “I think she knows exactly who her new champion is going to be.”

Adam looked away awkwardly. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of his real part in the quest. For one it reminded him that he was being dishonest with his most of his friends and companions. And for another it reminded him how far from being a champion he was. There was no comparison between himself and Ullaur: he was a spoiled prince with okay fighting skills where the former He-Man was a giant of a man respected by all who knew him and possessed of strength, skill and unmatched courage. All things Adam lacked.

Maybe the Goddess was wrong to put the fate of Tellus in his undeserving hands…


End file.
